Klaine, As Told By David and Wes
by Ultraviolet-Ink
Summary: When David and Wes do something, they don't do it by halves. So when David suggests they document 'Klaine' in all of its entirety, it's not going to be some half-arsed job - they're pulling out all the stops.
1. Prologue

_I, David, am writing to provide you with_

"David? What're you writing? Please tell me that's not homework I haven't done."

"Alright. This isn't homework that you haven't done."Wes stares at me, trying to get past my poker face. Then he lunges forward to try to grab the sheet of paper, but I snatch it out of his reach.

"_David_! We always tell each other _everything_! Why aren't you sharing? I'll tell Blaine!" He pauses, and then shakes his head. "Okay, maybe I won't tell Blaine. But _still_..." Still holding the paper protectively to my chest, I look at Wes out of the corner of my eyes.

"Alright. You may look. But only if you promise to contribute." He nods dubiously, so I wave the paper under his nose. With crossed eyes, he eventually manages to read what I've written.

"Provide the world with what, David? And you sound like you're writing to someone. Is this your _will_? Have you finally gone crazy?" _Gone_ crazy? I've always been _at_ Crazy. I never left Sane to go to Crazy.

"I am writing to Kurt and Blaine's future children, to provide them with the true story of how their parents got together. Because, let's face it, neither Blaine nor Kurt are going to tell them. So," I gesture to the sheet, crossing out the first line haphazardly, "you going to help? Because, as amazing as I am, I'm just one man. I don't think I can capture the _essence_ that is Kurt and Blaine."

"'Klaine'." Wes says suddenly. Seeing the look of confusion on my face, he goes on to explain. "Like 'Brangelina'."

"Why not 'Blurt', then?"

"Because that just sounds stupid. Now, what exactly are we doing here?" I start writing on the page,

_We, David and_

"Write your name."

"Why do you get to do the majority of the writing? And why's your name first? I'm older."

"It was _my_ idea, so I get to do the writing. Plus being older doesn't mean anything – except that you'll become middle aged first."

"By a few months!"

"Exactly," I say smugly. "So you admit that it doesn't matter that you're older than me?" Growling at me, he snatches the pen and scrawls

_**Wes**__,_

in the space. Nodding, I take back the pen and carry on writing.

_are writing to provide you with an accurate account of how Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel finally managed to get together. _

_**But not **_**too**_** accurate. There're some things you just don't need to know.**_

_Yes, thank you, Wes; let's try to keep the innuendo to a minimum. We don't know how strict these two will be as parents. They might not even allow references to sex in their house. We might have just corrupted their fragile little minds._

_**Please, with Blaine and Kurt as parents? Any children they adopt are going to end up so informed about sex that they might as well become politicians.**_

_Ha-ha, I like that. May try to drop that into conversation. Unfortunately, however, they'll either end up like Blaine, who gets angry when we so much as try to talk during 'Homework Hour', or Kurt, who shouts whenever we try to put salad dressing on his salad. Things aren't looking good for the future spawn._

_...Anyway, where were we? Ah yes, the truth. Well, we'll start right from the beginning. _

_**Not that beginning, you pervs. **_

_Wes, I'm sure they hadn't even thought of _those_ beginnings until you brought it up. I'm regretting allowing your input in this. _

_**Here to help.**_

_Now, first, we'll provide you midgets with the lowdown as to who we are. We're your uncles, David and __**I can write my own name, thank you. Wes. **_

_**What if we don't end up as their uncles?**_

_I'm sure we will. Even if we have to hire a private investigator to track down Blaine and Kurt when they inevitably try to run away to avoid u, and then stalk them until they eventually admit to their children that the two blokes following them around are actually their best friends from school._

_I feel I should provide you with a brief explanation of who I am. I, David, am quite possibly the most incredible person you'll ever have the fortune to meet. _

_**Jeez, big headed, much? Although I'm awesome too, I must admit.**_

_**...David, you do realise we haven't actually explained anything about their parents to them yet? **_

_Yeah, I know. Wait, I have a brilliant plan!_

_**Is it as brilliant as the time you made Blaine wear a skirt?**_

_Why, yes, actually. That was a brilliant plan, you have to admit it. _

_**No, it wasn't. It mentally scarred me. **_

_Shut up. No, my brilliant plan is that we stop sharing the pen – no, Wes, don't try to steal the pen! – What I mean is, I write for a while, and then you chip in. _

_**Chip in? I thought you wanted my help!**_

_I do! But when we share the pen, we keep getting into arguments, and so far all these poor children know is that their parents did get together at some point, and that we argue like a married couple. _

_**True. Ok, we share. You write about one thing, I write about another. Chip in when we feel it's absolutely necessary. **_

_...Fine. That's a good idea. Why do you always have to be the rational one? Oh, and shotgun the beginning! _

_**What? I wanted that! That's the easiest bit, because all you have to do is write about Blaine becoming a stalker! **_

_Look, as I've got the beginning, you can have the mushy end bit. _

_**I don't want to do that bit! **_

_Look, Wes, we'll just go with the flow, okay? Stop acting like a spoilt brat! _

_**...**_

_Don't you get all ellipses-y on me!_

_Fine. Wes is obviously sulking, so I'll begin. It all started, not so long _

_**ten months**_

_ago, just after Kurt first came to Dalton. Blaine, bless him, got a little bit excited..._


	2. In The Beginning, There Was Stalking

**(Author's Note) I just want to say thank you, soo much, to anyone and everyone who's reviewed, alerted, or favourite (which doesn't appear to be a word... oh well, it is now.) anything of mine so far. Seriously, it seems to make me high. So, thank you!**

**I've also just remembered that I've been forgetting disclaimers. So, if I stop posting, it's because the disclaimer police have come and dragged me away in the middle of the night. I'll try to remedy this – I do not, in any shape or form, own Glee or Fox, or anything to do with Glee. Including Darren Criss. Which upsets me. (...please, Disclaimer Mafia, don't hurt me)**

**Enjoy!**

**(P.S. To Phantom Walker – you're a genius, with much more common sense than me XD)**

I knew it was going to be one of _those_ days when I first got up that morning. My alarm hadn't gone off, so I wasn't going to get breakfast, and I hadn't even started my math homework yet. So-

**How is this even relevant, David? No one cares whether you got breakfast. And how do you even remember all of this?**

I went without breakfast – of _course_ I remember it. It was traumatic.

Anyway, when I woke up and found out that Blaine had decided we needed to hold another rehearsal to run over 'Teenage Dream' yet again, I knew that one of two things were going to happen – a Warbler revolution, or it was going to be a pretty crap day. And as I didn't have the energy to lead a revolution, I was sure that it was going to be the latter.

"_Blaine_," I'd said to him. I distinctly remember his non-committal grunt, as if he wasn't at all interested in what I had to say. Granted, he was trying to rush out an essay when I found him, but that's no excuse for rudeness. "We're perfect." He looked up at that and smirked.

"David, I'm flattered, but just because I'm gay it doesn't mean I fancy you. I appreciate your feelings for me, but please don't mention them ever again. Wes might get jealous." I smacked him on the head – a move I regretted, because my hand seemed to stink of hair gel for the rest of the day.

"Idiot. I meant the Warblers as a whole, not us in particular. Why've you called yet _another_ practice? I heard Wes humming 'Teenage Dream' in his sleep the other night. And not even the melody – he was singing the harmonies. The _harmonies_, Blaine."

**Was I? Damn, that's dedication. And a bit creepy.**

"You saw last year's Regionals. If we've got any hope of beating Vocal Adrenaline and..." he paused, waving a hand in circles in the air.

"New Directions?" I supplied helpfully. He nodded,

"We need to practice. I don't know what happened last year, but New Directions deserved to do better than they did, and Vocal Adrenaline-"

"Are scarily brilliant?" He nodded again, looking aptly terrified.

"So, we need the extra practices if we want to get through Sectionals, let alone Regionals."

**David, as much as I'm admiring your story telling skills, you're taking a very long time to get to the point. Where's Kurt? This is the story of Blaine and **_**Kurt**_**, and so far it's just been Blaine, you, and a very brief mention of me. It's not boding well for the rest of your writing. You sure you don't want me to take over?**

I'm _fine_, Wes. Honestly. It's called dramatic suspense. Setting the scene. The Klaine children deserve to know everything we can possibly tell them about their parents.

"David," Blaine said suddenly, going very still. "I can hear Steve. Talk to me about something meaningless and distracting."

Now, offspring of Klaine, I think you need some background information here. Before Blaine met Kurt, and everything was well in the world, Blaine was dating a bit of a dickhead called Steve. Steve once tried to pull a condom over his head to use as a swimming cap. This would have been hilarious – had it been me trying to do it. But it was Steve, and Steve is a douche. So it wasn't funny.

**David, I think what's more important is that Steve and Blaine had gone through a very messy break-up, so Blaine was 'emotionally fragile' round about now, and prone to fits of locking himself in his room, listening to his 'Woe is Me' playlist.**

I was getting to that, Wes, stop interrupting!

"Uh, okay... Wes and I are going down to his on the weekend – you want to come with us?" He frowned at me.

"Shouldn't Wes be the one inviting me to stay at his house?"

**Yes, I really should.**

I thought we agreed that we'd only interrupt each other when absolutely necessary?

Anyway, at this point, Wes walked over to us, neatly typed essay in one hand, and finished math homework in the other. Without a word, he handed them over to us, and then collapsed into a chair.

"You know, I'm expecting payment for those. I don't spend all night slaving over homework just so you two can copy it in the morning for nothing. And feel free to come over this weekend, Blaine."

"You have my eternal love," I said. "What more do you want?" I looked at my watch. "I'd best go – I've got French, and it just _has_ to be on the other side of the school."

"Yes, David," Blaine said, finishing his essay with a flourish. "I'm sure Mr Dalton, or whoever it was that built this school, must have thought 'you know what would be really funny? If I put French on the other side of the school to this dormitory, then the person who sleeps there would have to walk further to get to class.'" Blaine laughed in a manic, dictatorial fashion; just as suddenly, he stopped and looked at me blankly. "No."

"Don't you have Katy Perry posters to slobber over?" I stood up to pack my stuff into my satchel, and Blaine threw a rubber at me. "My, aren't we mature today? What next, you going to steal my pillow? Spit in my soup?"

"David, stop antagonising Blaine. It's not midday yet, so I'm not in the mood. As soon as the clock strikes twelve, you can be as irritating as you want – hell, I'll happily join you. But, until then, I want to sleep. I was up all night, doing homework, and I didn't even get a lie in, because I knew you two would need said homework to copy." Wes yawned, before leaning back in his chair. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got two free periods, so I'm sleeping." He closed his eyes.

"Again, you have my love." I ruffled his hair affectionately, and he swatted my hand away.

**I've just had a thought.**

Was it painful?

**Shut up. Anyway – shouldn't we type this up? Our handwriting is atrocious at best, and it's probably going to get worse as we go on.**

True. Okay, fire up the computer!

"Where's

**Why've you left a gap between the stuff you've just written and this new stuff? **

Honestly. To signify time passing.

**I thought you wanted to be thorough, and include every miniscule detail.**

I do. But, let's be honest, I can barely remember what happens in my lessons anyway, let alone write about them months afterwards.

_Anyway_, "Where's Blaine? He was supposed to be here ages ago..." I paced back and forth, looking up at the clock anxiously. Blaine was _never_ late to rehearsals, so of course I was worried. I used to think Blaine existed purely to rehearse, so for him to just _not turn up_ was unprecedented.

"Guys!" Jeff came running in around about then, looking for all the world as if he were trying not to collapse on the floor.

"Jeff? What's wrong – has someone set the science labs on fire again?" Science labs on fire are a common occurrence around here, so unsurprisingly no one flinched. Jeff, bent double, shook his head.

"Did you catch the Head in one of the supply closets with his secretary again?" Jeff splutters, but shook his head again. He started to wheeze, and Wes scoffed.

"Honestly, Jeff, get some exercise once in a while, and then we wouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing." Jeff held up his middle finger, but still remained silent. "Oh, for God's sake, someone get the boy some water, otherwise we're never going to hear this!" One of the younger Warblers hastily ran off to get water from the nearby water machine (singing is _thirsty _work), and presented it to Jeff, who, equally as hastily, gulped it down.

"Th-Thanks," he gasped. Honestly. What did we learn from this, Jeff? Exercise isn't just an extra-curricular activity to look good on your college application. Although, let's be honest, that _is_ a benefit.

"Come on, Jeff, what happened?" He suddenly smirked – a particularly evil smirk, which I recognised from somewhere.

"I know where Blaine is. Don't worry," he said to the rest of us. "He's fine. He's with a _guy_." Jeff sits down smugly, while the room seems to explode with shouting.

"_WHAT?_"

"A _guy_?"

"He's supposed to be _here_, dammit!"

"Where did you see him?"

"So he's allowed to frolic with guys, but I can't spend the time on my French homework? _Hypocrite_!"

"Does that mean practice isn't on?" Eventually, Wes stood up on the table and shouted,

"People! Practice is still on! Just... run through some harmonies or something. Jeff," he climbed down from the table, and stood in front of Jeff, who seemed pleased at the chaos he had caused. "Is Blaine coming to rehearsals?" Jeff shrugged.

"I think so. They were skipping over this way, and I think Blaine said something about practice. Although I can't be too sure." Wes smirked, and I suddenly remembered where I had seen Jeff's smirk before – on Wes's face. He should get that thing trademarked.

**You think so? I didn't even know it was **_**that**_** evil. **

Please, of course you knew. Like how I know that my 'come hither, I'm going to seduce you' face is highly effective.

**You keep telling yourself that.**

"Skipping? Blaine was _skipping_?" Wes let out a loud shout of laughter, before something occurred to him and he stopped. "Who was he with?" Jeff shrugged again. This guy would be a crap intelligence gatherer. It would just be a lot of shrugging, and an inability to run anywhere. If he were Bond, the movies would be terrible.

"I dunno. Not anyone from here, he wasn't in uniform." He paused. "He was quite pretty. You know, for a guy."

"Thank you for that, Jeff. We now know that Blaine is skipping around Dalton with a guy who is 'quite pretty'." I rolled my eyes, before continuing. "Well, he'll be along in his own time, so-" Speak of the devil, and he shall appear – apparently with his associate in tow.

And here we have it – the very first time 'Klaine' was witnessed by yours truly. I'll be honest with you, children of Klaine – I didn't see the destiny, the magic, or the _untold_ _passion_. I was pissed off at Blaine for being late to rehearsal, I was pissed of at Jeff for being so lame, and I was even pissed off at Kurt for being 'quite pretty'. So, I was too busy being pissed off to see anything. Wes, you see anything?

**I just saw Blaine inappropriately stroking this poor guy who looked scared out of his wits. And Blaine does that quite a lot anyway, so I didn't really think about it. **

Inappropriately...? Oh, yes, the fixing of the lapel. Come to think of it, Blaine was being a bit obvious, with hindsight. But, as I said, I didn't care. I was _pissed_.

You probably know what happens next – it was one of Blaine's favourite moments of all time, and he proceeded to tell everyone he met about it. So, if he hasn't told you children yet, either he has amnesia, or he's mute. In which case, Kurt has probably told you. Anyway, there was some Katy Perry serenading, and we took the 'quite pretty' guy out to coffee, where we proceeded to beat him up for being a spy-

**We didn't 'beat him up'. You make us sound like a hit squad. All we said to him was that we didn't bully gay people. That was it. No beating up, no guns, and before you try, no ninjas!**

I'm just trying to spice up the story a bit – this bit was boring! It was just some Katy Perry.

So, there was serenading, coffee... but then, out of the blue, came Blaine the Stalker. And _this_ is where your parents' story becomes a bit less crap, and a bit more interesting.

"Hey, Wes, David, come check this out!"

"For the last time, Blaine," Wes said, not looking up from his textbook. "We've seen those McKinley performance tapes enough times to be able to draw out a comic strip for them. Unless you've just seen some hot supermodels in the background, I'm not interested." Blaine span around in my computer chair (once again, he'd invaded Wes's dormitory and mine) and stuck out his bottom lip.

"That's hardly fair. I always have to put up with you rewinding the bit in Goblet of Fire when the Beauxbatons girls come sashaying in, and not once do I complain."

"That's because immediately after that scene is the Durmstrang boys' idiotic dance, which we allow you to drool over." Blaine glared at me, and I smirked back.

"Touché. But, seriously, come watch, come watch!" If I remember rightly (and I do), he started bouncing up and down in my seat. Fearing for the safety of my chair – it's a _good_ _chair_ – I hurried over, Wes following behind slowly.

I tried to watch the video – honestly, I did. But, if I'm honest, there are only so many times you can watch a McKinley performance to spot the rare Kurt Hummel moments before you feel like murdering their lead soloists.

"Well? Did you see him? He looked good, right?" Wes raised an eyebrow at me behind Blaine's back, and I grinned.

"He looked 'good', eh? As in, you want him to make sweet, passionate love to you every Sunday morning?" I accompanied my speech with some inappropriate hip thrusting; Blaine almost jumped out of the seat, his face flushed and eyes wide.

"W-what?" He spluttered. My grin widened to the point of facial pain, and Wes started sniggering. "I didn't mean that! I meant that he looked like a good _singer_!" I put a comforting (okay, I'll admit it, it was patronising) hand on his shoulder.

"Blaine, you don't watch a video repeatedly because you think one of the people in it is a good singer. You watch it repeatedly because you think one of the people in it is _hot_."

"I mean, come on, Blaine," Wes said, already back in his chair again, with the textbook propped up on his lap. "David and I must have seen this video at least ten times, so I dread to think how many times _you've_ watched it. And _who do you keep texting_?" He yelled at Blaine, who yelped and dropped his phone. Using my super ninja skills

**I said no ninjas, David!**

I grabbed the phone from the floor and searched through his sent box.

"Oh my God... these are _all_ to Kurt. All 235 of them." Utilising my superior height, I threw the phone over Blaine's head to Wes, who caught it **expertly. I caught it like a true sportsman. **Sure, whatever.

"How have you even _managed_ this? You don't even send that many texts to David and me _combined_. Have you been..." he pressed a few buttons, and let out a low whistle. "Half of these are sent at night. What are you, Blaine, some kind of stalker?"

"Okay, I admit it," Blaine said angrily, crossing his arms. "I like him. But if you were to _read_ the texts – don't read my texts!" He snatched the phone back, cradling it like a small baby. "If you were _allowed_ to read the texts – which you're not – you'd see that they're all encouragement. Kurt's going through a pretty rough time at the moment, so I text him to cheer him up." I won't lie to you, I felt _awful_ at that. There we were, mocking Blaine and his stalking, when 'Quite Pretty' Kurt (Jeff never lived that down – we still call Kurt that now) was having a crap time.

The room was awkwardly silent for a few minutes – although I think Wes was just using the time to actually read his chemistry book – and then the computer let out that familiar 'ping' to signal a received message. Out of reflex, I turned to the computer, only to be greeted with a message from Kurt himself.

"Hey Blaine," it said. "Thanks for coming down today – it was nice seeing you!" I turned to Blaine, who was smiling sheepishly and scratching his neck.

"You went to _Lima_? When did you go to Lima?"

"During break. When I said I was going to the toilet." He looked at both Wes and me, scrutinising us from under drawn eyebrows. "Didn't you even _notice_ I'd gone?"

"I did," Wes said, with his nose buried in his textbook. "I just thought you were avoiding us."

Did you actually notice he was gone?

**No. I'm not a Blaine tracker. The only person I tend to notice not being around is you, and that's because you always seem to be there. You not being around is weird – I can actually get work done.**

Thanks. I think.

"Blaine, that's not important," I said, waving wildly at the computer screen. Blaine started twitching, looking anxiously at the computer; Kurt had just written,

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"What is important," I clarified. "Is that you've driven _four hours_ – two there and back – to get to Lima. You never did that for Steve."

"That's because Steve goes to this school. The most I had to do was walk for a few minutes to see him." Details. I turned to Wes to see how he'd responded to this information, but he seemed to be resolutely ignoring us.

**I was. I had a test the next day – which, by the way, I only just passed, because you two never seem to let me work.**

Oh. You should've said!

**Would you have honestly stopped talking, David?**

...No. But we would have talked quietly!

"Just accept the fact that you are a freaky stalker. Even if you have been comforting him, there's no reason to drive all the way to Lima, just so you can say everything that you can over the phone."

"I'm not a stalker! Okay, I admit, I watch the McKinley performance videos a lot, and I text Kurt more than I text either of you too, and I watched the Cheerios performance video a few times-" he seemed to realise that he'd said more than he meant to, because he suddenly went quiet and flushed dark red.

"What the hell are Cheerios, besides a fairly boring breakfast cereal?" I said confusedly. I had a sudden mental image of an advert for Cheerios, in which there was singing and dancing – like a Cheerio Glee club, really. However, Wes shattered this illusion by stating,

"It's the McKinley cheer squad – I dated one of the members a few years back, but she was like some sort of succubus, so we broke up fairly quickly. And why are Cheerios a boring cereal?" I shrugged.

"They just are. So," I turned to Blaine, who had been looking relieved that we had forgotten about him. "What have the Cheerios got to do with Kurt?" He mumbled something under his breath, but didn't answer – so I jumped on the computer and started typing rapidly.

Not one minute later I was on the McKinley Cheerios official website, with their most recent performance at the top. I clicked play, unaware of what I was letting myself in for.

Cheerleaders are _hot. _There's no denying that.

**That's true. I've dated my share of cheerleaders.**

But I've never really gone for male cheerleaders. Or, well, male _anything_, really. But I was finding myself strangely attracted to the male Cheerio. I think it was the hips.

**Were you? Ha-ha, you never mentioned **_**that**_** before. I might actually tell Blaine that.**

"Whoa, wait, is that _Kurt_?" Blaine grins, half proudly, half smugly.

"Yep. And you told _me_ off for drooling." I wipe my mouth – which was drool free, I should add – and glared at Blaine.

"It's still weird that you tracked this down."

So, Wes, what did we find out about Klaine from this encounter?

**...We're not seriously doing this, right? Like some sort of 'and the moral of the story is' kind of thing? That's retarded, you know.**

Yes, we're doing this. I'm head writer, and I want to do this.

**Fine. We found out that Blaine was a stalker, and Kurt was a cheerleader.**

...That's it? I gave you free reign to write your supposedly infinite wisdom down, and that's all you put? We found out so much _more_ from their first encounter!

**Like?**

...Okay, maybe we didn't find out much more. Fine. Well, it's your turn next. I take it we're going chronologically, yes?

**Obviously. It was the Lady Gaga fetish next, right?**

I think so. The stains are still there, you know.

**Really? That's kind of gross.**

**So, Klainelings, the next part of the story of Klaine began a few weeks after the first encounter, with some strange noises coming from Blaine's dormitory...**


	3. Sidestep Dancing To Lady GaGa

**(Author's Note) This is **_**such **_**a lovely fandom. Seriously. Are you all injected with sweets at birth? Thank you for your lovely comments and advice :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. As you're probably all too aware.**

**

* * *

**

"_WES!_" I sighed, stormed over to my door and flung it open – halfway through homework, and small children start screaming my name. I would love to say that this was an isolated incident; it isn't. I share a room with David.

...Huh. No reaction. David?

**Yes?**

Have you taken sedatives or something? You're acting... _calm_.

**Well, yes. **

Wait, you have?

**No, I haven't taken sedatives. I'm being calm. I was thinking, last night, that the Klaine children might end up preferring you to me, because you're calmer and don't run around as much as me, and you get to the point. So, this is the start of the new, mature David.**

Right, okay then Dav

**I CAN'T DO IT! How do you just sit quietly, watching me typing away? It's **_**maddening**_**!**

_There _wego. David's back. You seem to be writing as much as I am, which is hardly fair. This is _my event_. Go find something to do. Plan your next entry or something.

Apparently, David doesn't understand the word 'plan', because he's staring at the piece of paper I've put in front of him as if it'll bite him. At least his terror will distract him for a few minutes.

Anyway, where was I? Screaming children. Right.

"What do you want _now_? If this is about how you've broken the water dispenser again, I'm not interested. You do this every week – go talk to Blaine about it." There must have been about five children huddled at my door – and they were all looking up at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"No, not Blaine! We can't go near _Blaine_!" That was new. Usually, David is the one to chase small children away. He gets some sort of pleasure (not sexual, I don't think. Not something we tend to discuss) out of making them scatter – he once equated them to pigeons. His analogy skills are horrific.

"What's Blaine done to make you look like you've all been mentally scarred for life?" They started nudging each other forward, until the smallest boy was stood in front. He rubbed his hands nervously, and the whites of his eyes were visible around the iris. Eventually, my infinite patience wore thin, what with the rubbing, the rocking back and forth, and the muttering – so I kicked him. Gently, with the toe of my shoe, but it seemed to spur him into action.

"_We heard strange grunting noises from Blaine's dorm_!" He slapped his hand over his mouth, his face turning beetroot colour.

"Right... Was that all? Because I've got a lot of homework, and I don't have time to deal with your irrational fears of Blaine. Go see a psychologist, or someone who'll actually get a kick out of your weird phobias." I was about to shut my door, when what the small person said seemed to sink in. Strange _grunting_ noises? _Blaine's_ room?

I won't lie to you; I wasn't too sure what to do. If it had been David making the 'grunting' noises, I'd have quite happily just walked into the room, because I've seen David naked before.

**Please rephrase that. **

But it's true! In the showers, after gym?

**Yes, but you didn't add that clarification in, did you? Okay, carry on with your little anecdote.**

So, anyway, walking in on David wouldn't be a big deal. Walking in on Blaine, however, is a _completely_ different kettle of fish. I'm supportive of his sexual preference, and I have nothing against gays; it's walking in on _Blaine_. Or any other person, bar David.

**You're not helping, Wes. Seriously. Can I just make this clear, Blaine and Kurt's children? Uncle David is straight. As a ruler. Or a pole.**

Wait, what are you implying here? I'm straight too! And would you stop distracting me? Look, the quicker I write this, the quicker you can have your turn. Okay? Good.

"Uh... how long ago did you hear... _it_?" The little people looked at each other, before one of them (not the shortest) whispered,

"About... two minutes ago? We ran straight here." I shooed them out of the way, pulled out my phone and hit speed dial one, whilst practically sprinting down the hallway.

"Wes?"

"David. Small people heard strange noises from Blaine's room. Going to investigate. May not make it out alive."

"Dude, I told you not to call me when I'm with the girlfriend – she gets pissy. Wait, are you running? And what strange noises? _Don't just stop giving me information, Wesley_!"

"_Wesley? You're talking to him _again_?_" David's girlfriend's voice came screeching through the phone, so I took that as my cue to hang up. Within minutes, I was stood outside Blaine's door – and true enough, there were low, grunting noises coming from within.

All I had wanted to do that day was finish my essay and I somehow managed to get myself roped into hearing what had to be one of the most mortifying sounds ever; best friend grunts. Not something anyone who values his or her sanity needs to hear.

I clenched my teeth together – I'm a _man_, dammit – covered my eyes with one hand, and flung open the door with the other.

"_Blaine_, please, for the love of God, stop whatever it is you're doing! I'm going to uncover my eyes soon, and I expect some _decency_!" There was silence in the room, so I peeked out from behind my hand.

Blaine was knelt on the floor looking at me curiously, a soapy bucket of water stood next to him, a sponge in one hand, and a large, soapy mound on the floor.

"Oh, _oh God_, have you stained the carpet?" He raised an eyebrow at me, and waved the sponge around erratically – I winced.

"Well, yeah. Maybe. I don't know. I started cleaning it up pretty quickly, so it might be okay."He grinned sheepishly; I seriously considered just running out of the room and forgetting this whole exchange. "It just seemed to go _everywhere_, you know?"

"Okay, that's where I _draw the line_. There is a definite lines drawn, Blaine, in my 'need-to-know' quota, and not only have you crossed them, you've trampled all over them in _clogs_." He stood suddenly, the sponge splashing all over the floor.

"Wes? What's wrong? It's just-"

"_I know what it is_! I don't need you to explain it to me!"

"Wesley, I think you're overreacting here."

"Overreacting? _Overreacting_? You have the... the _nerve_ to talk to me about overreacting, when you've practically exploded all over the floor?" Blaine raised an eyebrow at me, and cocked his head to the side.

"I didn't know you had a phobia of juice stains, Wes."

"I – wait, what?" Suddenly, the world seemed a much safer, calmer place again. My life was rebalanced - Blaine wasn't overly sexually active, I wasn't going to have to deal with awkward conversations, and I could just go back to pretending Blaine was sexually ignorant.

**Because he **_**obviously**_** isn't now. Wahey!**

Moving on...

"Juice stains? We were listening to Lady GaGa, and there was dancing, and then there was spilling, and... well, then you walked in, being all weird." Blaine shrugged. "I've come to accept these kinds of things as part of daily life."

"Oh, that makes sense. Hang on, 'we'?"

"Hi, Blaine, I couldn't find the kitchen, you'll have to show me where it is sometime – oh, hi, Wes!" Kurt was the other half of the 'we'. Which shouldn't have surprised me half as much as it did – I mean, who else would Blaine bring back, to his dorm room, to drink juice and dance to Lady GaGa with?

"Hey, Kurt. You alright?" He shrugged, adjusting the satchel on his shoulder. Behind him, Jeff walked past the open door to Blaine's room, did a double take at Kurt, and then mouthed 'get in there, Blaine!' to me, before he dashed off.

"Ah, can't complain. Actually, no, wait, I could complain, because my new skinny jeans now _reek_ of orange juice," he glared pointedly at Blaine. "It's a good thing I always carry a spare outfit in my car, for emergencies such as these."

"Why, do you get covered in juice often?" Kurt looks at me blankly, before he shrugged again and said,

"Slushies, actually. I used to carry about three extra outfits at one point. Which reminds me," he rummaged in his satchel (which seemed to swallow up at least half of his arm, if I remember rightly), before withdrawing something and throwing it to Blaine. "You left these in my car last week."

"My _sunglasses_!" There's something horrific about that phrase when it's in reference to a pair of the most embarrassing, shockingly pink sunglasses in the history of humanity. It's as if he's exclaiming over his child or something. And he insists on wearing them in public. I think he does it (and I bet he'll do it to you, children of Blaine and Kurt, too) just to irritate me.

David loves them. Go figure.

**They're **_**cool**_**. You're just not trendy.**

I'd rather be uncool than look like a prize knob.

"Kurt," I said; he had started rootling around his bag again, so he looked up. "I beg you, if he ever leaves his sunglasses in your possession again, dispose of them. Blow them up, throw them into the sea, do line dancing over them – I don't care how you do it, just _kill them_." Kurt, to his credit, just cocked his head at me (I had wondered why Blaine seemed to be doing that a lot more), and then held up a familiar blue packet.

"Will a pack of Oreos be good enough?" He threw them to me, and I grinned at him.

"Kurt, you're officially my new best friend." I tore into the wrapper with all the finesse of an elephant, and had eaten two biscuits before I was even aware of what had happened.

"Anyway," I said through a mouthful of biscuit. I saw Kurt wince, but chose to ignore it. "Why were you dancing to Lady GaGa?"

"Because Hummel is trying to convince me that Lady GaGa is better than Katy Perry. I mean, come _on_. Lady GaGa's great and all, but Katy Perry is a _goddess_, sent from the musical powers-that-be to give us eargasms."

"Oh, please. You were enjoying learning the dance to 'Bad Romance'." Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine, and then turned to me. "By the way, don't let Blaine dance. Ever. He's dangerous, and will probably end up seriously maiming someone. _He's_ the one who spilt the juice – I have _no_ idea what he was attempting to do, but it involved a lot of jerking and thrusting." I raised my eyebrows at Blaine, who was steadily turning red. Kurt remained blissfully ignorant, and carried on. "Anyway, I need to get going. It's a long drive back to Lima, and I want to see Mercedes before I have to go home." He waved to the pair of us, and left the room. As soon as he was out of earshot, I turned to Blaine and said,

"You were _dancing_?" He nodded glumly, collapsing into a seat.

"He made me do it. He was stood there, dancing away, looking incredibly graceful and mobile and _hot_, and he said 'come on, Blaine, Lady GaGa's for dancing, not for foot tapping'. And I just..."

"Let loose?" Blaine put his head into his hands – it was at this point that David burst into the room, wide eyed and manically waving his arms.

"What happened? Did you live? Wes, _did you live_?" He started shaking me by the shoulders, causing my head to rock back and forth.

"Live through what?" Blaine said from behind his hands. I realised that David was going to bring up the taboo topic that I thought I might have been able to avoid, but before I could warn him, he stampeded right in.

"Wes heard some strange noises outside your door, and didn't know what you were doing, and he didn't have _any_ idea what he was going to walk in on, but did it anyway, and-"

"Wait, strange noises? I was cleaning the carpet... yeah, I suppose I was putting a bit of elbow grease into it, so I might have been grunting a bit. What did you think I was..." His face paled suddenly. "Oh, _dude_! You thought I was... And you just _walked right in_? That's gross! What if I had been... you know?"

"Why do you think my eyes were closed!" We could have carried conversation on for some time, when David piped up,

"Lady GaGa? Why've you got a Lady GaGa CD, Blaine? Isn't that sacrilegious to your Katy Perry ways?"

"He was _dancing_," David looked appropriately shocked. "Kurt was round," I said, by way of an explanation. David winced.

"Blaine, we've been over this. You're dancing skills leave a lot to be desired, and we know that Kurt _can_ dance – all you've probably done is scarred him for life. I bet you, right at this minute, he's telling his friends how _appalling_ you are at dancing." Blaine moaned in horror. He sat silently for a few minutes, and then looked up at us both.

"I have a plan, that might just work; and I hate to say it, but I need your help."

"Done," David said. I wish he wouldn't do that.

**Do what?**

Assume that I want to help Blaine. It always involves something mortifying, which I end up regretting. Or it gets filmed, and put on YouTube, and then my mother inevitably sees it, and forwards it to all her yoga friends, and then it eventually ends up on the most watched video of the month list.

Not that, you know, I've ever experienced this happening or anything.

* * *

In all honesty, I knew it was never going to work. It was like a plot from a shockingly awful film, where nobody can act and the comic timing is dreadful. Except Blaine's love life was on the line, so I was willing to try anything, for the sake of my sanity (and, I won't lie, my ears. There're only so many times you can listen to Blaine's 'I'm so lonely and in love' playlist).

"This won't work." Okay, maybe I wasn't willing to try _anything_.

But he had asked David and me for _dance lessons_. My dancing is limited to the sprinkler, while David usually breaks out 'big fish, little fish, cardboard box' at social functions. We're not qualified to give lessons. Granted, we were much better than Blaine, who could only just about manage the sidestepping and soulful gestures that Warblers performances required, but that didn't mean we should be teaching him to dance.

"Come on, Wes," David said happily, waving a CD in the air - he had taken to the idea of dance lessons alarmingly quickly. "It'll be fun! I borrowed Nick's Lady GaGa CD." David and I had returned Kurt's copy once we realised that Blaine was starting to play it on loop: it was being played more than Katy Perry was at one point. Unfortunately, we weren't quick enough, because Blaine managed to upload it to his iPod before we could drive down to Lima to give it back to Kurt (we didn't tell Blaine we were going. It was punishment for all the times he had woken us up with 'Just Dance').

Blaine lit up at the sight of the Lady GaGa CD; I panicked.

"No. _No_. We're _not_ dancing to Lady GaGa. He's already developing some kind of weird crush on her – we shouldn't be encouraging it!" David swatted at my hands, which had been attempting to grab the CD.

"Wes, we need to teach our little Blainey to dance! And before you say it, I know we can't dance, which is why I've hired a tutor for the day. She's going to teach us some basic moves, so Blaine doesn't look like such an arse the next time he attempts dancing." I was about to ask who he'd managed to hire on such short notice, when a tall, lean blonde walked into the room, smiling benignly.

"David," I whispered out of the corner of my mouth. "Why've you hired my ex's best friend to teach us how to dance? Don't you think this might get a little bit weird?"

"Because, re-watching the McKinley performances, she's the best dancer. I figured if she manages to pass off even a little of her skill, Blaine will be in a better position than he is now. Plus, no one else would come on such short notice for free." He shrugged and smiled beatifically. _Bastard_.

"Hi, Wes. What're you doing here?"

"Hey, Brittany. Apparently, you're teaching us to dance." Brittany frowned at me confusedly.

"Why do you need to learn to dance? Do you love Kurt too?" Blaine, who had been looking up at Brittany with some trepidation, seemed to choke on his own saliva. I, however, had been exposed to Brittany's somewhat blunt manner before, and remained unfazed.

**What? Please, you looked **_**mortified**_**. **

"No, Britt, David and I are just here for moral support. Blaine's the one madly in love with Kurt." He hit me across the arm (hard, I should add), and then said to Brittany nervously,

"I can't dance. At all. As in, small children cry if I attempt to dance."

"You make small children cry? I don't think you should love Kurt, you're not very nice." I shook my head at Blaine, who looked as if he wanted to respond indignantly. Whilst dating Santana, I learned that it was always best to just let Brittany get on with it.

"So, Brittany, can you teach us to dance?" David said, putting the Evil CD of Morning Death in the CD player.

"Sure. I taught the Glee club Hairography, and my ex-boyfriend didn't have any legs. I can teach you to dance so that you can love my ex-boyfriend."

"What, the one without the legs?" I bent down to tie my shoelace – big mistake.

"No, Kurt." I went stumbling forward in shock, ending up face first on the floor; Blaine, who had been taking a drink of water, sprayed it everywhere; David accidentally skipped the CD forward, filling the room with 'LoveGame', making it all the more awkward.

"You... You dated _Kurt_?" Brittany nodded happily.

"I kissed him." ...How do you respond to that? Everything I thought I knew about Kurt had just been thrown out of a third story window.

"_You_... _he._.. And you..." I think, at that point, Blaine's brain might have died.

* * *

**...That's it? You're just ending it there? But what about**

No, I'm not ending it there. I just haven't figured out how to phrase the next bit delicately.

**Fiasco is a good word.**

I was going for something politer, but I suppose that'll do. Blaine, as of that day, has been forbidden from vigorous dancing. He could have quite easily killed Brittany, what with the arm waving and the kicking and the general mania. She ran out at that point, screaming something about 'Magic School' trying to kill her. Luckily for Blaine, there was still hope. He hadn't embarrassed himself too harshly in front of Kurt.

Yet.

* * *

"Psst. Wes. Psssst. Hey, Wes. Weeesss..."

"Oh, for God's sake, _what_?" Once again, I had been attempting to do an essay, and once again I was doomed to be interrupted.

"I have a plan." David was leaning back in his chair – I think he was trying to be like a Disney villain (he did remind me of Jafar at that point, actually).

"That's great. I have homework. Buggar off."

"Blaine," he said, ignoring what I had just said. "Is very suave."

"Is there any point to this?"

"So, that means he was probably very well brought up."

"I don't particularly care."

"Which means he might know how to _waltz_."

"You're not listening to a word I say, are you?"

"Do you know what this means?"

"If I say yes, will you disappear?"

"We just need to get Blaine and Kurt into a waltzing type situation!"

"We don't even know if Blaine _can_ waltz."

"We can lock them in one of the music rooms, and play cheesy music until they feel compelled to waltz!"

"This is the worst idea I've ever heard."

"I agree," a voice from behind us said. We both turned in our seats and there stood Blaine, eyes narrowed and arms folded.

"Oh, Blaine! We didn't see you there," David said. After a few minutes of silence, David leant forward, looking at Blaine speculatively.

"_Can_ you waltz, Blaine?" I expected Blaine to just laugh and make a comment about two left feet. What I hadn't been expecting was for him to start shifting uncomfortably, and then briskly nodding.

"Wait, really? This is brilliant!" No, it really wasn't.

**I agree. **

You _knew_ it was a bad idea, and you kept pushing it? You talked about waltzing for _weeks_.

**Well, yes. I was hoping that, if I kept making really shocking suggestions to Blaine about how he could get with Kurt, he'd eventually grow some balls and do something else, just to get me to stop talking. I didn't expect him to actually **_**try**_** to waltz with Kurt.**

Most painful experience of my life, trying to explain to Blaine's mum how he ended up in hospital with a concussion. I still blame you.

**How was I supposed to know that Kurt couldn't waltz? If he had known, Blaine wouldn't have had to show him, and then he wouldn't have tripped over that wire, causing him to hit his head on the coffee table, and then he wouldn't have needed stitches in his head. So really, it was Kurt's fault.**

If that helps you sleep at night.

**...do you know what I learnt about Klaine from this?**

**Wes is refusing to type back. I think summaries are rather important: helps me keep track of where Klaine have been. Which, at this point, wasn't very far.**

**All we really learnt about Klaine from this encounter was that Blaine and Kurt were starting to spend a lot of time together, and Blaine was willing to resort to waltzing and injury to get Kurt to go out with him. Oh, and rather than making out in dorm rooms like **_**normal **_**teenagers do, they spent their time drinking juice, eating Oreos and dancing. **

**...Wes, why did you even **_**write**_** about this?**

Because that's what happened next...

**But there was hardly any **_**Klaine**_** in it! So far, Blaine and Kurt's children have read God knows how many words, and they still don't know how their parents really got together!**

Well, skip a few weeks, to Blaine and Kurt's first _proper_ outing together.

**What, their first date?**

No, that's too far. The one where we stalked them, and bumped into...

_**Oh yeah! **_**Ha-ha, brilliant, I get the good bit!**

Yippee for you. Excuse me while I go get my balloons and ticker tape.


	4. Impromptu Performances

**Author's Note: Well hello again :D The next instalment of David's (with some assistance from Wes) Chronology of the **_**KLAINE**_**.**

**Just the usual disclaimer, of how I don't own anything... and in case anyone's interested, on Saturday I'm off to Germany and Poland for the week XD. For anyone that desperately loves updates of any kind, I'll try to get some writing done while I'm there, but I can't guarantee anything – I'll be very busy (there's an itinerary and **_**everything**_**). I won't be posting anything until I get back, either. So if you don't hear from me in a while, don't worry, I'm not dead – just trekking around Europe and such.**

**Again, I do not own the 'Glee' we know and love. **

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the love between your parents blossomed into – well, the most painful time of my young life so far, actually. Have you ever known someone who falls in love very, _very_ quickly, spends most of their time spouting sonnets of their love, and then the rest of their time analysing _every little thing_ their new favourite person says or does?

Well, Blaine is the _king_ of that particular sub-species of human.

"Guys, what do you think this means?" Blaine waved his phone around in a spasmodic, jerking manner, forcing Wes to grab the phone in order to actually read the text it was displaying. Wordlessly, he then handed it over to me, before balling up his latest essay attempt and throwing it at Blaine's forehead.

On the screen, written very clearly, was the message,

"Hey, what you up to? –K"

"Well, Blaine, I know this isn't written in perfect grammatical English, but translated, I think it says... _What_... are _you_... up to?" Blaine snatched the phone back as Wes and I started to snigger.

**Ah, laughing at someone else's expense... the best kind of laughter, in my opinion.**

"I gathered _that_. What I meant was why do you think he sent it? Because he's genuinely interested in what I'm doing, or because he just wants to be polite?" During those few weeks, Blaine, Wes and I had many a similar conversation. And after each conversation, where was always a small part of me that just wanted to steal Blaine's phone and text Kurt with

"I am so obsessively in love with you, and practically wet myself with excitement whenever you so much as breathe the same air as me. –Blaine"

"Blaine," Wes said, eyeing the phone exasperatedly. "It's quarter past seven in the morning. That," he pointed to the phone dramatically, "is not a polite text. It's an 'I want you in my pants this very second' text. So text _back_ already." Blaine nodded triumphantly, before he turned to us with a desperate look in his eyes.

"What do I say?" I sighed, grabbed his phone from him and typed in

"Nm, worshipping David n Wes. U? –Blaine". Before Blaine had truly registered what was happening – my skills are just that amazing –

**What, your abilities to steal? Yes, positively mind blowing.**

Don't interrupt, it's rude. Before Blaine knew what was happening, Kurt had texted back. Damn, that kid's quick.

"Hi, David. Blaine doesn't use text speak. Nice try though. –K" He's _good_.

"Give me back my phone, dick!" Charming use of language from Blaine there. He lunged forward and plucked his phone from my hand, clutching it possessively.

"Look, Blaine, you're obviously emotionally stunted, so let us text him," Wes said reasonably, holding out a hand. Blaine hissed – actually _hissed_, like some wild cat – and shook his head.

"Tell me what I to say, and I'll write it in." ...He's on to my evil plan.

**Texting Kurt with 'I want to have your babies' is not an evil plan. It's just a bit odd.**

Yes, yes, details.

"What about, and I'm keeping it nice and basic here: 'Hey, Kurt, want to go out to dinner tomorrow night?' See? It's _that_ easy." Ah, Wes. Ever the voice of reason. Although, I distinctly remember that he couldn't ask his first girlfriend out because he was nervous, and had to get me to do it for him. Bless.

**I was **_**ten**_**, David. And she was fourteen. I had every right to be nervous, she was about two foot taller than I was.**

_Lies_. I think I remember your life better than you do.

"But what if he says he's busy?" Blaine, at this point, was seriously just looking to piss me off. He was finding problems where there weren't any. It was painfully obvious that he wanted Kurt, it was slightly less obvious (but still obvious by anyone else's standards) that Kurt wanted him, and I couldn't understand why they weren't getting off with each other at every opportunity.

"Then he probably _is_ busy. This is Quite Pretty Kurt we're talking about, he doesn't seem the type to string you along. Ask him to dinner. It doesn't even have to be a date, just meet up with the guy in a place that isn't either of your bedrooms. Do this thing _properly_ if you're going to do it at all." I sat back and crossed my arms smugly at my infinite wisdom. I should be a relationship counsellor, I'm serious.

Blaine looked at both of us, as if expecting a sudden reprieve, and then sullenly started texting. Eventually, after what had to be the slowest recorded text in the history of humanity, he stared down at his phone, pale faced and wide eyed.

"I did it. I actually did it. It's been sent. There's no going back. Oh, my God." I half expected him to start hyperventilating – Wes looked set to grab his rucksack in place of a paper bag – when Blaine's phone went off, making him shriek in shock. In the panic, he threw his phone into the air; once again demonstrating my mad skills

**Not even going to bother.**

I managed to catch the phone.

What I didn't expect to see, however, was a text from Steve, Blaine's ex.

"Let me see! What did he say? Is it – oh _God_." Wes, who was leaning over my shoulder, suddenly threw out a hand, effectively keeping Blaine at a safe distance.

"_What_? Is it from Kurt? You've _opened_ it, haven't you? How dare – never mind, what does it say?" We ignored Blaine – **it's a necessary thing to do sometimes** – and I turned to Wes.

"Open or delete?" Wes frowned, and Blaine imitated his earlier shriek.

**You know, I've just realised that we must have been so annoying to sit near during breakfast. We always seemed to be shouting and pushing each other.**

Look, no one complained, so they were obviously okay with it.

"Don't _delete it_! I need to read it, for my own sanity! I don't care if it's bad – well, yes, I do, but I'd rather read it for myself!" Again, we ignored Blaine, focusing only on the evil text on the phone screen.

"Open it," Wes said finally, "but delete it straight after. Blaine can't read this."

"I'm still _here_, you know. Talking about me as if I'm not in the room won't make me go away... _GIVE ME MY PHONE, DOUCHES!" _

We opened the text. It was simple enough – '_I made a mistake_' – but it was the _implications_ of that text. Blaine had only just gotten over Steve, and anything might've tipped him back into the abyss of Stevedom, so we did what any good friends would do – deleted the text, removed Steve's number (which really should have been done before, now that I think about it), and pretended that nothing had happened. Wes handed Blaine his phone back nonchalantly, and then turned to me.

"You know, I haven't left school grounds in _weeks_. I think we need to go bowling or something some time soon." Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Blaine frantically searching through his phone for the text.

"I can't go this weekend – promised April I'd spend the weekend with her. You know, she's still pissed that I cut our last afternoon together short, when you called me about the strange grunting noises."

"That's because your girlfriend is on a permanent period. Or something's crawled up her ass. One of the two." I used to get the impression that Wes hated April.

**Really? You don't say. It's not like I was obvious or anything.**

"You dickheads, did you delete that text? What did he say?" Thankfully (someone up there obviously felt that we'd done enough to merit this reprieve), his phone buzzed again. It was Kurt – or at least, I guess it must have been, because I can guarantee that he doesn't react like he did then when Wes or I text him.

**There was bouncing, cheering and everything. He looked like a really crap cheerleader.**

The upside of Cheerleader Blaine was he completely forgot about that text. Unfortunately, we must have then offended the powers that be (probably that spider I killed...), because it was _not_ smooth sailing from there.

* * *

The next day, Blaine was in my room, getting himself ready for his 'Big Night'.

"Right," I said, looking Blaine up and down. "You're ready for this. You are like a Samurai – calm, collected, and ready to kill someone with your very sharp sword."

"Thanks, David," Blaine said, nervously fidgeting with his tie, "for those words of wisdom. I'll be sure to remember them when I feel the sudden urge to brutally stab the waitress."

"Where're you going?" My phone started to vibrate in my jeans pocket, but I ignored it – the sight of a nervous Blaine was too priceless to give up.

"Breadstix. It's nearer to him than me, so I'd best get going if I want to be on time..." He loitered in the room for a few more minutes, until I literally grabbed him by the arm, dragged him across the room and shoved him through the door.

"Don't come back until you've at least got past first base!" I distinctly remember hearing him scoff as he walked down the hall, and then my phone went off again. Deprived of Blaine to mock, I answered – Wes' name was on the screen.

"What's up?"

"Where're Blaine and Kurt going tonight?"

"Breadstix. So sweet, bless them –"

"We need to follow them. I'm parked outside – Blaine's just left." Now, I'm all for stalking – hell, it's a necessity if you need to know things that people refuse to tell you about – but following my incredibly awkward mate on his first not-date didn't sound like my cup of tea. Now, I'm not sure how he does it, but Wes _heard_ my lack of enthusiasm, because he hastily said,

"Jeff told me that Steve's going out for a meal today. With his family. Who live near Lima. So they're going to Breadstix. Tonight."

"..._Crap."_

* * *

"So, David, what's the plan?" Plan? I didn't have a plan! I thought we were just going to make sure that Blaine didn't see Steve, and vice versa! However, when I told Wes that, he scoffed and said, "Dude, you always have a plan. You're unhealthily obsessed with plans. You plan how you're going to _sleep_ at night."

"That's a little bit of an exaggeration. Okay, here's the plan, which I've just made up on the spot... we stay in this bush," I gesture to the bush surrounding us, "and watch them. If they end up anywhere near each other, then we do whatever it takes to distract them. Agreed?"

"This is why you're the plan maker, and I'm the good looking one."

"I resent that – hey, listen, you hear something?" Wes shook his head, and I held up a hand. "Listen." In the distance, but coming closer, was the sound of voices – a _lot_ of them.

"Okay, here's the plan-"

"Whoa, wait, hold up, Berry. Why're you the one suddenly all in charge? That's _my_ best friend in there, I get to call the shots!"

"Uh, no, I should get to, you know, plan, because he's like, my brother, or something..."

"Dude, your parents are _dating_, that doesn't make you brothers. If anything, I should be the Numero Uno here, because I'm _badass_."

"Oh, please, that doesn't prove you're capable of making plans – it just proves that you're an idiot. As the one who's gone through the biggest ordeal this year, I think I've proved myself responsible enough to handle this."

"Yes, an inability to keep your legs closed really shows responsibility."

"_Take that back_!"

"Yeah, don't, uh, talk to her that way!"

"_You_ stay out of this! If anything, my _boyfriend_ should be defending me!"

"Uh, why? I love you and everything but... well, it's true."

"Look, guys, why don't we just crouch behind this bush, at least until we come up with a better plan than standing in Breadstix parking lot looking like losers?" A reasonable voice finally broke up the near shouting match, and a pair of hands pulls apart the branches.

"Hey, there're two guys in here!" An Asian girl, the girl who blew our cover (huh. That sounds like a film title), looks at us in shock. She's quickly joined by an Asian guy, whose eyes widen.

"Tina's right! Guys, come look!" Suddenly, there's a swarm of people gathered around the bush – the two Asians, three girls in cheerleading uniforms, a guy in a wheelchair, a black girl, a guy who looks vaguely like Justin Bieber, a guy with a Mohawk, a _really_ tall guy, and a _really_ short girl (ha-ha, imagine if they dated, Wes!)

**Ah, how aesthetically brilliant that'd be.**

The group all gawked in at Wes and me; I speak for myself when I say it was some of the most awkward minutes of my life.

**Yeah, it'd have to be high up there on the awkward-o-meter.**

After a few minutes of silence, the guy with the Mohawk said,

"You know, we're totally cool with gays. We've got a gay friend." I spluttered, and Wes sounded like he was choking on his own oxygen.

"We-we're not..." I stammered, still trying to recover from shock. The inhumanely tall one looked at us, confused, before saying,

"But... you're in a bush together." I'll admit, I was at a loss as to how to respond to that. We _were_ in a bush, and the truthful explanation would take hours to explain, what with the back-story and sub-plots... Luckily, I never leave the house without my Wes, a handy conversational tool.

"Weren't you lot all planning on getting in this bush too? Does that make us, like, an orgy then?" An unconventional method, I grant you. But it got the group of misfit weirdoes off our backs. The black girl held out her hand to Wes, grinning as she said,

"I like you. I'm Mercedes, and these are my... Well, some of them aren't my friends as such... This is my Glee club."

"_Mercedes_!" The short girl hissed. She put her hands on her hips and glared at Mercedes. "Don't tell them your name! They could be _spies_, sent from a rival Glee club to steal our set lists!"

"Berry, not every randomer we meet in the street is a spy. You're _paranoid_. So, who're you two, and why _are_ you in this bush?" One of the cheerleaders – the one I don't recognise, as I realised that the other two were Brittany and Santana – turned to us and looked us up and down. Before we could respond, however, Santana burst out laughing.

"Oh my God, _Wes_? Long time no see, boy, how've you been? And David! You've..." She pursed her lips and then grinned in a frighteningly animalistic way. "Grown up."

"Hi, Santana. Hi Brittany." Wes said, refusing to look at Santana. Brittany smiled happily, and said,

"Hey Wes, hey David. How's Blaine's dancing going?" In what can only be referred to as a cartoon moment, the huge crowd of people around our bush gasped and took a step back. The girl called Berry, after a few minutes, seemed to get her act together, and she growled (are these people the children of _animals_?)

"Brittany, you know _Blaine_? _The_ Blaine? The one we've come all this way to..." she trailed off, casting quick glances at us.

"Whoa, you _know_ Blaine?" I said, looking at them all in turn. Berry girl refused to speak anymore, so Mercedes shrugged.

"Kind of. Through association." She looked at us shrewdly. "Do _you_ know Blaine?"

"Well, yeah. We're his best mates, we're in the Warblers with him-" Berry suddenly lets out a loud shriek.

"_SPIES_! I _knew_ it! You all told me 'No, Rachel, don't be silly, no one would want to spy on New Directions after the failure at Regionals-" I have a memory like a sieve, otherwise 'New Directions' would be ringing alarm bells in my head.

"So, why're you here, watching Blaine? _What's wrong with him_? Is he crazy?" The group somehow managed to capture every emotion on their faces then – wariness, anger, confusion, amusement, predator – that last one was Santana, who was licking her lips.

"Nothing's _wrong_ with him – we're just making sure he doesn't bump into his ex-"

"_Ah-ha_!" Rachel said, pointing a dramatically accusing finger very close to my face. "You admit it – this 'Blaine' character is carrying a torch for his ex! I hate it when people do that, and don't even have the _decency_ to own up to it..." She started muttering under her breath, and occasionally made violent gestures with her hands. Wes gave her a concerned look.

**Concerned? I was bloody **_**terrified**_**. They were all nut jobs, I'm serious.**

"No," I said peaceably – I would liken it to the tone used by a negotiator in a hostage situation. "He just went through a messy break up with this dick, who just so happened to choose _tonight_ to have a meal here with his family. Blaine doesn't know, and we're trying to keep it that way, otherwise we'll have to deal with moping-Blaine again." The Asian girl – Tina – and Mercedes both made sympathetic cooing noises under their breath, and the third cheerleader turned to Rachel, one hand on her hip.

"Satisfied? Blaine's not some psycho freak-spy like Jesse was, so Kurt'll be fine."

"You guys know Kurt?" I said, tilting my head to the side. I'll be honest – most of those people didn't seem like the type of friends Kurt would have. Mercedes, possibly.

"Hell yeah, Kurt's my brother from another mother!" The guy with the Mohawk cheered.

"Puck, you're such a retard." The cheerleader said, examining her nails. Puck looked ready to snap back at her, when Mercedes gasped.

"Guys, I've got a plan for how to make this the best night of Kurt's life. We need to get rid of this ex-boyfriend of Blaine's, and then everything will go swimmingly. Puck, you think you can... ah, _acquire_ a waitress's uniform?"

"In my sleep."

"Good. Santana, sneak into the staff toilets. Brittany... no, wait, Tina, loiter outside of the staff toilet door – take Mike with you. Quinn, Sam, go snoop around Breadstix and scope out any useful information – special offers, competitions, anything useful. Finn, Rachel, find out where... what's Blaine's ex called?"

"Steve," I supplied helpfully. Poor Wes looked a bit mind blown.

**It was like an out of body experience, that whole night. I thought I was drunk.**

"Find Steve's table. Brittany... just go with Sam and Quinn. Artie, you're with me. Now, Puck, when you get the uniform, subtly pass it to Tina, who'll sneak it in to Santana. Everyone else, you'll have... ten minutes to find out what you can, report to Tina and Mike and get out of there. Santana, use that information to get Steve and his family out as quietly as possible. And remember – don't let Kurt or Blaine see you. Go!" They all left, talking excitedly in low tones, in their relevant twos and threes, apart from the guy in the wheelchair, who said glumly,

"Have you kept me behind because of the chair?" Mercedes looked genuinely shocked, before crossing her arms and scowling.

"Of course not, Artie. I kept you behind because you're sane – you can help me keep tabs on everyone, when this inevitably goes horribly wrong. Plus, you annoy me the least."

* * *

Those ten minutes were _long_. The four of us – myself, Wes, Mercedes and Artie – sat in the bush with our noses pressed against the window, watching everyone go about their business. Every so often, people would finish their mission and leave – Sam and Quinn left immediately after telling Mercedes what they'd found out (there was a raffle for a holiday to Europe going on, which Steve was supposedly going to 'win'), and Rachel left after threatening Wes and I ("If I hear the Warblers 'suddenly' know our set list, I will _hunt you down_"), leaving Finn and Brittany with us in the bush.

We weren't entirely sure where Puck had gone.

"He should've been back _long_ before now..." Mercedes looked at the time on her phone worriedly.

"Mike and Tina are on there way," Artie said, "ask them if they've seen him recently." As Mike and Tina walked out of Breadstix, Mercedes' phone started vibrating.

"It's Santana. Hello? Oh, yeah. That's a good idea. I'll put you on speaker phone, hang on." She pressed a few buttons (I was feeling more and more like a spy as time went on) "Okay, you're on."

"Right," Santana's voice came out of the phone, quiet and slightly fuzzy. "Don't talk, guys. I'll put my phone in my apron, so you can hear what's going on. Don't speak though, because then it'll look like I'm talking to myself, like a schizo. Or Rachel." We sat in silence, all of us crammed around the window.

"Hello," Santana said, in a very authentic waitress voice. "I'm happy to tell you that you've won a competition, for an all expense paid trip to Europe! Congratulations!" A low muttering came from the phone.

"Oh, maybe there's been a mistake. Our sister branch nearby told us you'd won – you should go and clear it up with them soon..." I was convinced this was going to work – until I saw Steve's dad stand up angrily and start shouting at Santana. Wes looked ready to start shouting down the phone (he was still a little bit in love with Santana)

**Wasn't. The guy was six foot tall, and red in the face. **_**I **_**was scared.**

Whatever. Luckily, Santana took it calmly – and that's when it all started to go wrong.

"Okay, I'll admit it, you didn't win a competition. I just wanted to introduce myself. My name's Santana, and I've been secretly dating your son Steve for some time... and..." She sniffed convincingly, wiping her eyes. "I tried to tell you, Steve, that we should always use protection, but you promised it'd be okay, and I... I trusted you, but it isn't okay. I'm pregnant, Steve, with your child." Mercedes almost screamed in frustration, and whisper-shouted down the phone,

"What the _hell_ are you _doing_? I said _subtle_. _SUBTLE_!" Artie's phone went off as Steve's family erupted.

"Where are you, dude? You bailed! Huh? Oh. Wait, what? You can't be serious. We promised... Well, I guess. Yeah. I'll tell them." Artie hung up the phone. "That was Puck. He wants to put Operation Save The Date into motion." Mercedes gasped.

"You... You can't be _serious_." Artie shrugged.

"That's what _I_ said. But I think it's our only option, to distract Kurt and Blaine."

"Yeah," Finn said, nodding wisely. Then he stopped. "But... Rachel's not here."

"It'll have to be Puck and Santana on leads then, because Sam and Quinn aren't here either. So, Finn and Brittany on backing vocals, and Artie and I will try to get Steve out of there. You two," Mercedes looked at Wes and me – we, I'll be honest with you, were still in culture shock. These people were terrifyingly weird. "You'll have to stay here. Steve will recognise you."

"Oh, no," Wes said, crossing his arms determinedly. "I want to see what 'Operation Save The Date' is, and why it's so terrifying for you all."

"There's a table right at the back, where no one will see you. Just go round the side, and avoid Kurt's table, then you'll be fine." That was the most I'd ever heard Finn say in one breath.

"And trust us – you'll understand our terror in a minute. Okay, guys, let's get this show on the road."

* * *

True to Finn's word, there was a small table, right in the corner, barely lit, and looking _very_ couple-ish. But, to be honest, Wes and I had just been caught in a bush. We were past any possible awkwardness now.

After a few minutes of sitting quietly, trying not to draw attention to ourselves, we saw Puck walk in through the double doors, and wave to Santana – who was trying to extract herself from Steve's sobbing mother. She looked at him, confused. He grinned at her, ran across the room and said,

"Love is a many splendored thing," Santana's eyes widened, and she looked at Puck like he was insane. However, he carried on talking, regardless. "Love lifts us up where we belong, All you need is love!" Suddenly, Santana smirked, sidled up to him and said,

"Please, don't start that again." Steve's family looked at her nervously, and started to back away.

**I don't blame them.**

Puck and Santana moved as far away from Steve's family as possible – out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mercedes and Artie move out of the shadows to talk to Steve. However, I was more focused on what Puck and Santana were saying to each other to pay too much attention.

"All you need is love!" Santana sighed, crossed her arms and put her nose in the air.

"A girl has got to eat!" Puck looked at her beseechingly, causing her to giggle.

"All you need is love!"

"She'll end up on the street!" Santana sighed, and ran across the restaurant – ending up right next to Kurt and Blaine's table. Puck chased after her, and practically bellowed,

"All you need is love!" He held the last word as a long note, and Wes tugged on my arm excitedly.

"David, they're singing 'Moulin Rouge'!" I'd never seen the film myself, personally, until I went home that night and watched it online.

**He cried.**

So did you!

Santana, meanwhile, was trying to keep a distasteful look on her face, but her eyes kept flickering to Kurt, who was steadily turning more and more magenta.

"Love," she said coldly, "is just a game." Suddenly, there was an explosion of sound, as Finn and Brittany started to sing the backing melody, accompanied with dancing. Puck and Santana really started to get into it, and began to sing and chase each other around the room.

"I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me!"

"The only way of loving me baby," Santana held out a hand expectantly, "is to pay a lovely fee."

"Just one night,

give me just one night."

"There's no way,

cause you can't pay!"

"In the name of love!

One night in the name of love!"

"You crazy _fool_,

I _won't_ give in to you."

"_Don't_, leave me this way.

I can't survive, without your sweet love,

Oh baby, don't leave me this way."

"You'd think that people would've had enough of silly love songs..."

"I look around me and I see it isn't so, oh no."

"Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs"

"Well what's wrong with that?

I'd like to know.

Cause here I go... again...

Love lifts us up where we belong!

Where eagles fly,

On a mountain high!"

"Love makes us act like we are fools.

Throw our lives away,

For one happy day."

"We could be heroes...

Just for one day." Kurt had buried his head in his hands and was rocking back and forth, while Blaine was looking at Puck and Santana like Christmas had come early.

"You," Santana sang, poking Puck on the chest, "you will be mean." He gasped in mock horror.

"No, I won't."

"And I," Santana sighed. "I'll _drink_ all the time."

"We should be lovers..."

"We can't do that."

"We should be lovers!

And that's a fact."

"Though nothing, would keep us together."

"We could steal time..." Santana and Puck looked at each other, smiled, and sang together.

"Just for one day,

We could be heroes,

Forever and ever,

We could be heroes,

Forever and ever,

We can be heroes..." I looked at Wes, who was nearly crying with laughter. Kurt – poor, embarrassed Kurt – looked torn between running out of Breadstix in horror, and standing up to join in on Nicole Kidman's lines.

"Just because I..." Puck looked at Santana in an overly sappy way. "Will always love you..."

"I..." Santana began, before Puck joined in with "...Can't help loving..." Santana stopped, and burst out laughing at the look on Puck's face while he sang.

"...You..."

"How wonderful life is," Santana whispered; the smile on her face, however, was not one of recently found love, but one of satisfaction: Mercedes had just signed to all of us that Steve had left.

"Now you're in, the world..." They trailed off, and Breadstix erupted in applause.

* * *

"This was fun, Warblers." Mercedes said. Puck and Santana had left pretty quickly after their duet, with Santana and Finn close behind.

**Mercedes said that Kurt looked like half of him wanted to kill Puck and Santana, and the other half wanted to kiss them. **

"I agree, New Directions. We should do this again some time."

"What," Artie said, "stalk our mutual friends on their not-dates?" Wes shook his head rapidly.

"Dear God no. They hardly did anything except talk. If we do any stalking, it'll be on their first _real_ date. No, I was thinking just hanging out – no secret ninja stuff, no stalking, no impromptu performances..." Mercedes made a noise.

"Sorry, impromptu performances are our thing. We do them a lot. Just wait till you see _Rachel_ get in the zone. There's spinning and everything." She shook her head in disbelief. "Well, we'd best get going, before Kurt sees us and asks why we weren't singing. Awkward questions, you know. Hang on though," she whipped my phone from my hand (I think McKinley is actually a training school for ninjas), and pressed a few keys. "There. Text me the next time you feel a Warbler-New Directions coalition coming on. Preferably not with ex boyfriends involved." Mercedes and Artie left – it was a good thing they left when they did, because not two minutes later...

"_David? WES? _How long have you been here?" Now, I was faced with an internal dilemma here. Should we lie, and pretend we didn't see any of that, or fess up to the stalking?

**He took so long with his 'moral dilemma' that I had to answer for him.**

"Not long." Apparently, Wes has no problems with lying. "We were wondering what was taking you both so long, so we came to see where you were. And here you are." Kurt, who was still quite red in the face, nodded in relief.

"Oh, right. Well, Kurt, apparently my parents want me home... I..." He glared at both of us. "Guys, isn't there something you want to do? _Over_ _there_?"

"Yeah, sure." We ambled round the corner – and, like the secret ninjas we are, pressed ourselves against the wall in order to hear what Blaine was about to say.

"I had a really great time tonight, Kurt." Bless, how cute he is.

"Really? But all my friends were there, and they burst into _song_, even though I explicitly told them not to do that in public..." There was a shuffling of feet, and then Blaine muttered,

"You know, you talk too much." He was going to kiss him. I _knew_ he was going to kiss him. You could _feel_ the sparks in the air.

**Sparks? It was more like huge fiery comets of tension, not sparks.**

So, I did what any self-respecting best friend would do – I leant around the corner to watch them.

However, I misjudged my leaning, and ended up falling flat on my face, in plain view of Blaine and Kurt.

"God _damn it_, David!" Wes said, kicking my leg in frustration.

"David! I thought you'd left! _Buggar off!_"

"Uh, I should probably go..." Kurt said nervously, although there was so obviously a smile brewing on his face. He waved to Wes and I, blushed when he looked at Blaine, and then practically took off at a run.

"David, I'm going to _kill you_."

* * *

**You know what? Maybe these summaries **_**are**_** a good idea.**

Really? You don't have to if you don't want

_**What**_** did we learn from this? That David is a COCKBLOCKER. They were **_**so close**_**, David! And you just got in the way, like some tripping twat!**

I said I was sorry, didn't I?

**Because of you, there were **_**months**_** of sexual tension. **_**MONTHS.**_** I mean, the next morning at breakfast, they were practically having **_**eye sex **_**across the table**_**.**_** And I blame you entirely.**

There _was_ a small break in the tension...

**What, when Kurt finally came to Dalton? Oh, yes, because a depressed Kurt is **_**so**_** much less tense. Don't you remember Blaine's epiphany? And would he have come to said epiphany if you weren't such a clumsy **_**oaf**_**? No, I thought not.**

* * *

**(Author's Note - Again) Just a quick question for the veterans on here. I recently had an offer from a lovely person who wanted to be my beta. However, I'm new to this whole process, so just to clarify - is it all done over our own emails, or is there something we have to do on here?**


	5. Rosario vs Daphne

**Author's Note – here's the next instalment, after a **_**bit**_** of a break – hopefully, it won't disappoint!**

**Well, you all know the drill – I don't own Glee, and unless a series of very strange events occur, I probably never will. If, for some bizarre reason, I _do_ manage to inherit Glee, I promise to make Klaine happen quicker than it seems to be at the moment.**

* * *

"David, Wes... mostly David. Try to behave yourselves, okay? Kurt's had a rough week, and he doesn't need you two getting all up in his face." A fun fact for you all – David and I are actually two separate people. I am perfectly capable of sanity; I just choose not to be normal sometimes. David, however, is _not_ sane. There's a _difference_.

"You still haven't told us why Kurt's transferred here, Blaine. Is it..." I remember pausing for a few seconds, hoping for Blaine to fill in the gaps; when he didn't, I continued. "Was it something serious?"Blaine gave us both a hard, blazing look, before saying,

"It's Kurt's story to tell. If he wants to tell you, then let him." He stared at the wall opposite, while David raised his eyebrows at me. We were all skiving our first lesson in order to greet Kurt when he arrived,

**If I remember rightly, Blaine actually made us get up early and shower for ages to be 'in a fit state to greet Kurt'.**

No, David, he made _you_ shower for ages, because you still had melted chocolate all over your face from our midnight feast.

**Nothing wrong with being covered in chocolate.**

There is when we're trying to make a good impression on 'the love of Blaine's life'.

So, anyway, we were all skiving, and the receptionist was throwing us very odd looks. We sat silently for a few minutes, when the door creaked open slowly, and Blaine stumbled to his feet.

"Kurt!" He ran over to Kurt, who looked pale, withdrawn and terrified. Stood next to him was a tall man **– and Kurt's a tall guy anyway – **who I assumed was Kurt's father, and he had a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Hey, guys, what're you doing here?" I heard Kurt say tiredly. He smiled over at David and me weakly, while his father looked at us suspiciously.

"Welcoming committee," Blaine said, shrugging nonchalantly. I stamped on David's foot to make sure he didn't start sniggering at the idea of us being on the welcoming committee.

**Seriously, though, '**_**Welcoming Committee**_**'? He might as well have said the '**_**I Really Fancy You Committee**_**' and been done with it.**

"Oh. Okay. Well, I need to go sign in... Can you show us the way?" Blaine nodded like an overeager child, took hold of the handles of two of Kurt's many suitcases, one in each hand, and proceeded to lead us down the hall.

"Hey, Kurt, you feeling okay?" I said, going over to walk at Kurt's side. David quickly appeared at my side.

"Ah, so-so. Tired, mainly. There was a lot of... manic packing going on last night. We were trying to dig up all the suitcases from the attic."

"Well, you did insist on bringing _all_ of your clothes in one trip," Kurt's dad said from his other side – I noticed he was dragging two suitcases behind him as well.

"You never know what clothing you may need, and when you'll need it," Kurt said wisely.

"Sure, kiddo. Now, tell me... Which one's Blaine?" David snorted with laughter, while I smirked at the protective look on Kurt's dad's face – Blaine was in for a fun ride.

"Neither of us, sir. He's the dwarf up front," David said, pointing at Blaine, who was practically skipping down the hall. "I feel inclined to tell you that he sings in the shower, cries at sappy films, and frequently insists that we eat all our vegetables and have an early night." Mr Hummel blinked a few times, before muttering under his breath,

"Well... You sure know how to pick them, son." Kurt glared at David, turning increasingly red.

**It made me feel better to see him red and embarrassed than pale and nervous.**

True.

"I'll have you know-" What Kurt was going to let us know at that point we never found out, because Blaine suddenly came over and interrupted us with,

"Well, here's the registration desk. We'll take your suitcases up to your dorm room, while you and your dad sign all the necessary forms," Blaine looked up at Mr Hummel, and held out a hand. "Sir, my name's Blaine Anderson, and I just want to say that Dalton Academy is honoured to have Kurt as a student here." Jeez, he's such a _suck up_.

**Certainly threw Mr. Hummel though. He was expecting some huge, frighteningly arse-ish guy, and he got Blaine instead – a bit of a weakling who sings in the shower.**

"Thank you, Blaine. I'm proud of him, too." We took this as our cue to leave, as Kurt looked like he was going to cry – and none of us were very apt at dealing with crying people.

* * *

"What the _hell_ does he have in these, _corpses_?" David collapsed in a dramatic heap outside of Kurt's new dorm, I slumped to the floor against the opposite wall, and Blaine leant his forehead against the door, breathing heavily. "Never... Again. Blaine, when you get married to him, I refuse to help you move house – ever."

"We won't be getting married," Blaine said quietly, his head still resting against the door.

"Oh, not one for marriage? Fine, when you and Kurt enter a long term relationship-"

"No, I mean..." Blaine sighed. "We won't be getting married because I'm not planning on going out with him. I don't know what your straight person conventions are, but we gay people prefer to go out with someone before committing the 'M' word."

"Murder?" David looked up tiredly from where he had face-planted on the floor.

"No, marriage."

"Oh. Wait, what do you mean, you're not going to go out with him? You were practically jumping him in an alley the other day – hell, you would have done it if David McCockblocker wasn't there – what changed?" Blaine squirmed uncomfortably.

"Nothing _changed_..."

"So," I said, wriggling on the floor to prevent myself from getting a numb bum,

**There is such a thing as too much information, Wesley.**

Says Mr 'Hey, Wes, come check out my piss, it's a funny colour!'

**Well, it **_**was**_**.**

"Let me get this straight. You're still madly in love with Quite Pretty Kurt, yet you _don't_ want to go out with him? Explain the logic to me, please." Blaine sighed again.

**He did that a lot over the course of 'Klaine'.**

Alright, seriously, what's wrong with saying 'Kurt and Blaine'? It's not like it's that difficult to type, David.

**Klaine is just cooler, and practically skips off the tongue... or, in this case, it skips off my fingers when I type.**

"I want to go out with him, don't get me wrong! I want to spend weekend with him, curled up in bed, watching musicals on DVD-"

"You have a very strange idea of the functions of a bed, my friend."

"But he's been through _crap_ recently, and I'm not exactly model boyfriend material. I'm clingy, weird, nerdy, and my hair resembles a bush when I don't use product. Not what Kurt needs at the moment."

"That..." David said slowly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Is the _worst_ idea I have ever heard from you since your suggestion that the Warblers should sing 'Witch Doctor'. And you were drunk when you said that, which tells you how bloody awful this idea is. You like him, he obviously likes you, therefore you should ask him out – it's really not difficult."

"No! It wouldn't be fair on him! What Kurt needs at the moment is a mentor, a friend – not a-"

"Um, is there a reason you're all sprawled out in front of my door? Is this some weird, all boys school ritual, like a blessing of my room or something?" Kurt, without his dad, appeared at the end of the hall, looking very much like he was trying to convince himself _not_ to run screaming back to McKinley.

"Oh, Kurt! No, we were just talking." Blaine pushed himself away from the wall, almost tripping over David in the process.

"Right, okay..." Kurt, shaking his head exasperatedly, opened his door and proceeded to pull in his suitcases, managing to make it look almost effortless.

"Its times like this," said David thoughtfully, still in a shambolic heap on the floor, "you know, when Kurt's being all macho and such, that I consider turning gay for him."

"Hey, you've never said that about me!" I said quickly, trying to distract Blaine from leaping at David angrily.

"That's because I like my men to be... Well, actually, I don't _like_ men, come to think of it. Maybe I'm just Kurt-sexual."

"David, I swear to God..." Blaine growled.

"Just trying to give you a taste of what's to come. Wes and I might not feel like wooing Kurt with our manly prowess, but you can't guarantee that other people won't. You willing to fight off everyone who tries to get in Kurt's pants, whilst not getting in his pants yourself?" Blaine opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when Kurt reappeared in the suitcase-free hallway.

"Well, that's done. It'll take me weeks to unpack properly, so why don't we do that guided tour you were telling me about, Blaine?" Kurt tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. David bounded to Kurt's side and started talking rapidly, leaving Blaine to walk at my side in something of a stupor. It was only later, when David was regaling the epic tale of the Legendary Food Fight of 1962, that Blaine suddenly smiled softly, and said,

"Yeah, I'm ready to fight."

* * *

"No. _No!_ You're wrong! Rosario is the best Mimi, have you _heard _her sing?" A voice, loud and irritated, came streaming in through my window – which was quite impressive, considering that my room wasn't even on the ground floor. It was on the third.

"That's what we call the magic of movie editing, Kurt. You want raw talent, then Daphne is the way to go." Well, judging by the sheer idiocy of this conversation, I figured that Kurt and Blaine were having yet another argument about original castings of musicals versus their more recent counterparts, or even – and this is where it gets terribly exciting – _movie versions_.

"So, what, you're saying that Rosario is as talented as a lump of feta cheese, is that it?" Kurt said angrily. I swear to you, there was some nationwide conspiracy during that part of my life to disable me from doing any homework at all.

**No, you just get very easily distracted. Everyone else seems to manage.**

That's because you all seemed to do your homework during breakfast, and it's always quiet then – because everyone else is focusing on their own homework at the same time.

Eventually, as their arguing continued to get louder, I threw my pen out of the window in frustration.

"What the hell was _that_? Something just hit me on the head! Kurt, are you _throwing_ things at me now?" I sniggered at my excellent aim – what are the odds that I managed to hit Blaine on the head, not knowing where he was? Somebody was obviously looking out for me that day.

It was about then that I realised I had thrown my only pen out of the window, and that I'd have to go out and get it – because, let's face it, David doesn't own pens, because he can't write.

**I hate you, sometimes.**

"Wes? What're you doing out here, I thought you were doing your homework... Hey, was that _your_ pen?"

"Why, yes. You two were practically screaming outside of my window, so I figured I'd best come down, make sure you weren't murdering each other. You know, as you do."

"Well, I wouldn't be driven to murder if Blaine wasn't such an uncultured _tool_. I mean, come _on_ – Rosario is _unquestionably_ the best Mimi out there!"

"Kurt, you're so deluded that it's actually pitiable! Rosario may be good, but there's singing in movies, and there's singing on _stage_, and-"

"Okay, are you both talking in code or something? Those sentences don't even make sense."

"Actresses in 'Rent'," Blaine said dismissively, waving a hand in my direction. "Daphne _owns_ that stage, Hummel, and you know it, so I don't see how you can say-"

"What's 'Rent'?" Kurt and Blaine

**Klaine**

Both of them stopped suddenly, and turned their heads very slowly towards me, with identical expressions of disbelief and horror.

"...He's not serious, is he, Blaine?"

"I... I think so, Kurt."

"Oh, Grilled _Cheesus_. Well, I take back what I said, about how you're an uncultured tool. That title is obviously reserved for this fine specimen of Warbler, who doesn't know what 'Rent' is."

"Wait, isn't 'Rent' that play about all those people with AIDS?" I actually thought that Kurt and Blaine were going to murder me, slowly and painfully with a spoon, at this point.

"'_That play about all those..._' You know what, I can't even say it out loud. Stay right here, David, while I go get the film – I'm going to make you watch it, and then you try to repeat that sentence to me." Blaine stormed off angrily.

"Wow. I think I've pissed him off well – David will be proud," I said to Kurt, who was staring after Blaine distractedly.

**I'm very proud of you. Insulting the concept of 'Rent' to Blaine's face takes balls – I certainly wouldn't have done it.**

I wasn't _insulting_ it! There's a difference between insulting and

**Idiocy? Ignorance? Stupidity? **_**Retardation**_**?**

I was going to say 'unawareness' actually.

"Kurt? You still with us, mate?" He jumped slightly.

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Nothing's wrong, I – no, actually, there was something I wanted to ask you, Wes." I'll admit, I was nervous when he said that – I didn't really think I was qualified to give him advice on how to deal with Blaine, especially seeing as I can barely understand him myself. Regardless of the fact that he's one of my closest friends.

"Well..." Kurt looked awkwardly around him, biting his lip. "Why's Blaine being all weird?" I sighed in relief. _This_ I could deal with.

"Kurt, he's a weird guy, haven't you noticed yet?" Kurt shook his head.

"No, not that kind of weird. I mean... Since I came here, he's been all... _distant_. Before, he was always hugging me, and putting an arm around me, and I _know_ I wasn't imagining what happened after our 'Not-Date' – hell, you were there, you saw it too, right? But now, he's avoiding me like I've got bubonic _plague_ or something. And don't give me that look," he said suddenly, pointing a finger very close to my face – I had to cross my eyes to look at his finger. "Don't try and not answer this. He's one of your best friends, and I _know_ he's told you something. So, I'd rather hear right now if he's not interested, to save myself embarrassment later." He folded his arms crossly, looking rather like an indignant child. Bless him, he really is adorable.

"Alright, fine. He's worried about you." Kurt looked shocked, as if that possibility hadn't occurred to him.

"What?" I nodded, hoping that that was all the answer I would be required to give – it wasn't, as I gathered from Kurt's impatient hand gesture.

"Well, he told us that you'd had a crap time recently – he didn't say what happened," I said quickly, because Kurt was starting to look panicked, "and that he didn't... Um, I really don't think he'd want me to tell you this."

"Tell me, and I'll give you my ear plugs, so you can do your homework in peace. And I'll take David off your hands when Valentine's Day comes along, and he wants help with getting his girlfriend a present."

"Done." What can I say, I don't have a very high asking price.

**Wait, **_**that's**_** why Kurt helped me? You told me you couldn't come because your mom had flu, so you had to go home immediately!**

David, my mom was in _Europe_ over Valentine's Day, and if you ever listened to me, you'd have known that.

**Dude, I've told you, again and again, not to talk to me while I'm playing video games!**

"Well, cutting a long and slightly whiny story short, Blaine has decided not to be too affectionate with you, because he thinks that you need a mentor more than you need... _that_._"_ Ishiftedawkwardly under Kurt's hard gaze. Man, he was scary.

"Right. _Right_." Kurt turned on his heel and stalked angrily back into the dorm building, leaving me to follow behind anxiously.

"Kurt, what're you going to do? Kurt? _Kurt_! Don't say anything to Blaine, he'll scoop out my kidney with my own skull if he finds out I told you what he said! Kurt, if you value me as a living human being, you will _let this go_." Kurt, however, ignored my protests – and then we bumped into Blaine, who was holding a DVD – Rent, I assumed.

"_Blaine Freaking Anderson_!" Blaine, bless him, jumped a good foot in the air, looking around like an animal who hears a gunshot.

"Kurt, why're you shouting? You'll break my eardrums!"

"Don't you 'Eardrum' me, mister. You need to stop _mollycoddling_ me!" Kurt huffed angrily and crossed his arms.

"Mollycoddling... Wes, you _told_ him?"

"He made me!" I cowered behind Kurt because, in that situation, I was more terrified of Blaine than I was of Kurt – Blaine would have no qualms about attacking me while I slept. And I'm pretty sure David would let him just waltz right in to our dorm.

**Depends. In that circumstance, I would, because you broke the guy code. Never tell somebody's crush something they said in confidence.**

No, the guy code is 'bros before hoes'.

**Yes, but we had to change it when we realised that Blaine's sexuality kind of screws up that particular guy code. The sentiment is the same.**

I did the right thing, and you know it.

**True, true... I'd still unlock the door for Blaine, though. It's just business – we have to stick to the code.**

But Kurt's a 'bro' too, now. Which would technically make Blaine the equivalent of a 'ho'. So, if we're being pedantic, the guy code is redundant here.

**Again, true. I'd still let Blaine in though. I'd want to see whether he'd actually remove your internal organs, as he frequently threatens to do.**

Bastard.

"Kurt, whatever he told you-"

"Don't say that it wasn't true, because it makes perfect sense – why you've barely even _touched_ me, why you're acting like some high almighty Sensei of gayness, why you change the subject whenever I bring up our 'Not Date'... you're treating me like I'm fragile!" He growled in frustration, looking down at Blaine from his taller vantage point. "I'm not some baby that needs to be wrapped in cotton wool, Blaine! The real world _sucks_, and I get that, and you need to stop acting like my mo-" Kurt stopped suddenly, winced, and then turned and walked out of the room.

"Why, Wes? Why'd you tell him? He was bound to take it the wrong way..." Blaine didn't sound angry then, just weary.

"Because he was worried that you were 'going off him'. You went about it all the wrong way, and he thought you were getting irritated with him."

**I **_**told**_** him it was a crap plan. But no one **_**ever**_** listens to me. Let's just dismiss David, because he's an idiot that doesn't know**

Blaine looked at me for a few seconds, biting his lip nervously.

**Hey, you're not even letting me type! What is this, Irritate David Day?**

"What should I do, Wes?" I paused, and then took out my phone.

"David?" I said into the phone. He sighed.

"Dude, must you always call me when I'm with April? Don't you have other people to talk to? Where are Blaine and Kurt – talk to them for a change."

"No, David, just a quick question. Operation 'Act Like A Mentor' failed miserably, and now Kurt and Blaine are in the middle of an argument." I eyed Blaine with trepidation; he was sat on my bed morosely. "Well, I say Kurt and Blaine... Kurt's pissed off, and Blaine looks like a kicked puppy. What's your plan?"

"I don't keep plans on standby for _everything_, you know..." I caught the inflection, and smirked.

"But you've got a plan for this, don't you?" He sighed.

"...Yes. I do. It's a very simple plan. Ring Mercedes. I gave you her number the other day, didn't I? I'd planned for this inevitability." David, you're a genius.

**Yeah. I thought as much.**

"Okay. Have fun with the psycho girlfriend." He snorted down the phone, before hanging up. Blaine looked up curiously when I redialled, but I just hushed him.

"'Sup."

"Hey, Mercedes, it's Wes. You know-"

"Oh, Blaine's friend! Sweet Grilled Cheesus, David told me you'd call. What's happened in the sweet world of Klaine?" This is getting out of hand now.

"Yeah. What does Blaine need to do to make it up to a pissy Kurt?"

"Musicals. Any musical on DVD, snacks, pedicures..."

"Mercedes? Less girly sleepover, more 'I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I'm a bit of a twit and didn't let that come across'." Blaine looked set to protest, but I turned away.

"Oh. That's kind of specific. And, I'll be honest, Kurt's never been in that situation before, so I'm not entirely sure. I'd go with the musicals, though. Don't let Blaine confess any love while Kurt's pissed, though, because he's likely to just blow up in a mess of show tunes and designer clothing."

* * *

The next morning, Blaine and Kurt came down to breakfast together. Although they weren't touching in any way, both of them looked calmer than they had the night before. Kurt turned to Blaine, spoke quietly for a few seconds, and then walked away to talk to Jeff. Blaine, after a few seconds hesitation, grabbed hold of Kurt's hand and pulled him in for a hug, making Kurt blush pink.

**KLAINE GETS PHYSICAL!**

Well, kind of. Blaine walked over, grinning smugly.

"Dude, you just hugged him. It's not like you proposed or anything."

"Gee, Wes, way to kill the buzz," Blaine said grumpily. David leaned across the table and smirked.

"Never mind _that_. A little bird told me that you never came back from Kurt's room last night. Care to enlighten us?"

Pavarotti told you that Blaine was with Kurt?

**No, his roommate did.**

Oh. That makes more sense.

"We didn't _do_ anything!" Blaine said loudly, causing a few heads to turn in our direction. He flushed red and muttered, "We watched Rent three times, and then I just slept there, just in case any teachers were on duty and saw me going back to my room." David sighed, and I rolled my eyes.

"Wow, how romantic. All night in his room, and all you managed was a hug, and that was this morning. In broad daylight. In front of lots of people. Such romance and sexual tension!"

"You know, I'm seriously considering disowning you two and finding two new best friends," Blaine said seriously.

"Please, like any other guys would put up with all your sappy talk and Katy Perry on constant repeat." Thankfully, by this time, Blaine had decided that Lady GaGa wasn't for him – no more early morning wake-up calls to 'Poker Face'.

* * *

**Well! This was certainly a pivotal moment for Blaine and Kurt!**

Was it though? _Really_? They just had an argument, and then they hugged. Not really anything amazingly fluffy and cute.

**Look, Wes, it's hardly my fault that there was months and months of sexual chemistry. I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation. Granted, they hardly did anything for ages, but couples don't just spontaneously get together – they need time to grow and _mature_.**

They're not _cheese_, David. They had plenty of time. I knew people who got together and broke up in the time it took them to admit to each other that they had 'feelings', let alone a deep, burning, all-consuming love.

**You've been looking in Kurt's romance novels for ways to phrase Klaine Love, haven't you?**

There are only so many ways you can say 'Blaine wanted in Kurt's pants', you know.

**True.**

Okay, here's an idea. Skip ahead to Sam.

**You're letting me tell the Sam story! You're the best friend I could ever have, you know that, right?**

Don't get your knickers in a twist. Remember what else happened? You get _that_.

**Wait, what? You're giving me 'Return of the Steve'? No. **_**Hell**_** no. I don't want to write about the **_**canoodling**_**. **

You get Sam, you get Steve. And you need to stop watching Star Wars.


	6. Saving Kurt

****

**Author's Note: I feel like I need to tell you all something 'rather serious'. A few people have asked me whether I'm English, pretending to be American. The answer, my friends, is yes.**

**I'm **_**very**_** English. **

**When people take the piss of an over the top English accent, all 'cream tea and scones with croquet in the garden'... That's **_**my **_**accent. Right down to the expressive eyebrows and everything. I **_**try **_**to rein it in while I'm writing, but sometimes it just... escapes, like a wild animal. So, if you do come across any Briticisms... pretend that I meant to do it.**

**Anywho, moving on... I still don't own Glee. Trust me; you'd be the first to know if I did.**

**Warning - this one has some *ruder* words in it. Don't worry, Wes deals with the situation, so it's _fine_.****

* * *

**

Three months later, and Kurt and Blaine had still not progressed in their relationship – their first argument did _nothing _ for them in terms of relieving their sexual tension. Granted, Blaine went back to his affectionate self – but that just put them back at square one, really.

**Better square one than square minus ten, which was where Blaine had taken them.**

"David, who's that guy down there, milling around like a lost puppy? He looks familiar, but I can't place him." Wes pointed out of the window, and I peered down.

"Isn't that one of the McKinley kids? Yeah, he was there at the 'Not-Date'." Wes sighed in frustration.

"_Another _McKinley spy? Did they not learn from the last time? Their spy ended up transferring here!" Speak of the devil...

"What's that about McKinley spies? I'll have you know, we're usually very effective. I was just distracted by the might of Katy Perry." Kurt stuck his head through our open door, and I beckoned him in.

"I'm sorry, but he's sticking out like a cheerleader in a cemetery." Kurt gave me an odd look,

**It was a weird simile – I'm not **_**surprised**_** he was looking at you 'oddly'.**

And looked out of the window to where I was pointing. He peered down at the courtyard, before giving a gasp of delight and practically flying out of the room.

**Through the door. He didn't jump out of the window or anything like that.**

I decided that, in the interests of friendship – and curiosity – I should follow him outside to see what was happening. Apparently, Wes felt the same way; because when I looked out of the corner of my eye, he was there, walking beside me nonchalantly. Whilst we were walking, Blaine suddenly appeared at my right side (am I like a magnet for people or something?). We walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Blaine said,

"Where're we going, anyway?"

"Courtyard," I replied. "There's a McKinley guy down there, and Kurt's just run down like a mad man to greet him. So we figured we'd follow, because we have nothing better to do with our lives."

"Probably his step-brother," Blaine said knowledgably, nodding like some old wise-woman. "He was here last week, bringing Kurt some more of his clothes."

"Considering he's at a school with compulsory uniform," Wes said slowly, as if he was trying to digest the information himself, "Kurt seems to need a lot of regular clothes. Where does he _put_ it all?"

"Apparently he had even less space back in Lima, so I think he's purposely buying more clothes just to fill the extra space. He's an expert wardrobe-filler, from what I've heard." Blaine shrugged, as if the inner workings of Kurt's mind were still a mystery to him.

"There they are," Wes said, pointing to where Kurt was talking animatedly to the McKinley guy. Blaine looked on in confusion.

"That's not Finn."

"Who's Finn?" I whispered to Wes; he shrugged. Blaine didn't seem to hear us, but still turned on the spot and said, whilst waving his arms wildly,

"That's not his step-brother! That's a random guy of questionable sexuality! Why's he here, talking to Kurt? Is he-" Blaine suddenly gasped dramatically.

**You know, if I didn't know what Blaine was like, I'd say those gasps were coming from someone taking the piss of an over-dramatic person.**

"Is that Kurt's _boyfriend_? I've never actually asked if he has a boyfriend, I always just sort of assumed... Damn it, he's taller than I am, and he doesn't have to use truckloads of gel just to get his hair to appear civil! How am I supposed to compete with _that?_" He gestured manically at the blonde guy, who was talking earnestly to Kurt.

"Quick question," I said placidly. "How can you tell he's of...? What was your phrase? Ah yes, 'questionable sexuality'?" Blaine snorted derisively.

"Please, with hair like that? I can practically _smell_ the dye from here. He just _screams_ 'I'm confused about my preferences'." Blaine shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it. "But that's not important right now. What _is_ important is I need a plan – and I need to leave now, because they're coming over here." Before either of us could react, Blaine took off at a run, forever ruining any impression of him being a calm, collected human being.

"Hey guys. Where'd Blaine run off to? And seriously, why was he _running_?" Kurt and Blonde-Guy appear next to us, with Kurt staring after the retreating figure of Blaine.

"No idea. On both accounts. I seriously think Blaine may not actually be human, and is just a robot that still has a few glitches." Barbie-Boy stared at me, but Kurt didn't seem too concerned at my theory.

"Sam, this is Wes and David. Guys, this is Sam, he's-"

"Yeah, we've already met," Sam said, smirking at both of us. "Guys in the bush, right?" I winced – apparently, no one was going to forget that. Wes, however, just looked at Sam coolly and replied,

"Pussy-whipped guy, right?" Sam snorted.

"Touché, dude. Touché."

Wes, how could you even _tell_ that he was pussy-whipped?

**Please, dating Santana's friend? He was bound to be.**

Oh. Not sure I want to know any more.

"Well, Kurt, you coming?" Kurt, who was still looking in the direction that Blaine had disappeared in, shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah. Guys, cover for me, okay? The McKinley guys and I are going out to crash karaoke bars – you know, for old time's sake. If anyone asks, I needed to go home to babysit my step-brother." Sam sniggered disloyally behind his hand.

"Sure. Make sure you're not hung-over tomorrow – we've got practice after lunch."

"Don't worry," Sam said, looking at a flushed Kurt condescendingly. "We're not allowed to let Kurt drink alcohol after the 'Bambi Upchuck Incident'. Trust me, it's a brilliant story, _wish _I'd been there-"

"But you weren't, and neither were Wes and David. Shame, that! Anyway, aren't we running late, Samuel?" Sam glared at Kurt.

"Seriously, even my _mother_ doesn't call me that." He started walking away, but leaned towards me and muttered out of the corner of his mouth,

"I'll get Mercedes to tell you."

"_I heard that_!"

* * *

...I don't know if I can describe how _pitiful_ the scene was that lay in front of Wes and me.

**There isn't a descriptive word strong enough. Believe me, I've been trying to think of one for ages, and the only ones that come to mind are 'whiny' and 'pathetic'.**

Ah, Wes, ever the empathetic one.

Before us was what could once be considered Blaine's immaculate dorm room. However, the curtains were hastily drawn shut, the lights were off, there were _three_ empty tubs of ice cream on the floor, used tissues were strewn everywhere, and CD cases had been thrown haphazardly around the room. Meanwhile, on the CD player itself...

"Dude. _Dude_. Are you moping to _Kelly Clarkson_?"

"I'll have you know," a muffled voice came from under the mountain of covers, "that this album is very good." He paused, and then, in a weak, pathetic voice, he joined in with the chorus:

"_Is it over yet?_

_Can I open my eyes?_

_Is this as hard as it gets?_

_Is this what it feels like to really cr-_ hey!" Wes had made his way over to the CD player, and was practically smashing at it to get it to stop.

**Don't get me wrong, I like Kelly Clarkson. Just not when Blaine is singing along to her in his weepy, 'woe-is-me' state.**

"Right, dude, this is borderline psychotic. I could _maybe_ condone this behaviour if he'd dumped you, or cheated on you, but he hasn't – he was just talking to another guy-"

"_Of questionable sexuality_!" Blaine shouted from within his nest.

"Regardless," I said dismissively, "this type of behaviour is not going to get Kurt to date you. Ever. You'll just end up old and alone. You won't even have a _cat_, because cats don't like clingy people who put on the depressed playlist if they so much as _lick their own arse_ without permission. And how have you managed to eat _three_ tubs of ice cream?" There was a shuffling within the bed, and then Blaine's head popped out from the foot of the bed.

"I eat when I'm upset." I won't lie to you, children of Klaine, I _nearly_ laughed. His hair was sticking up on end, and while it was obvious that he'd been crying, and I _knew_ I should be sympathetic, all I could think of was how he looked like he just needed a good screwing.

**Right, I'm sure I've said it before – I don't want to **_**ever**_** think about their sex lives. The only sex life I want to think about is my own, thank you very much.**

While I managed to hold in my laughter, however, Wes didn't even try – he almost collapsed on the floor, holding his stomach, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Stop _laughing_!" Blaine huffed, burying himself back under the covers.

"Oh, no," I said, pulling them back again, revealing Blaine huddled in the foetal position. "You're not staying in here for the rest of your life, dude. Come on." Folding the sheets up as I moved, I started kicking the rubbish on the floor into something resembling a pile.

"Just leave me alone to wallow in my self pity! Jeez, see me being sympathetic when April dumps you."

"What makes you think it's definite that she'll dump me? The only reason she'd dump me is that Wes always seems to call while we're out together. I'm far more likely to dump her, I think." I placed the sheets on the desk, to prevent Blaine from snuggling back under them again, and then I opened the curtains.

"Sunlight, Blaine. Useful for the absorption of vitamin D." He muttered mutinously under his breath, but sat up on the bed. Progress, at least, from weeping along to Kelly Clarkson.

"Wes, get up off the floor and tidy those CD cases up," I said, feeling increasingly like my mother. This is precisely the reason why I'll never have children – they're ungrateful sods who have angst sessions to bizarre songs.

Eventually, we – meaning Wes and myself, as Blaine was rocking back and forth on the bed – managed to return Blaine's room to normal. We were all sat in a row on the bed, when Blaine said quietly,

"God, I'm pathetic, aren't I?"

"Yes," I said quickly.

"Absolutely," Wes said almost simultaneously. Blaine glared at us both.

"You're supposed to disagree." There was silence for a few minutes, and then Blaine asked,

"Where's Kurt?"

"He went out. He said something about meeting up with the McKinley crew." Blaine nodded slowly, as if he was thinking about something very hard.

"Why did _he_ pick him up, then? Why not Finn? Or Mercedes? Or anybody other than _him_?" I shrugged. I didn't know, I didn't care, and, to be honest, I was pretty sure that Blaine was blowing this whole thing out of proportion.

"I don't know, Blaine. Maybe they're secretly eloping." I hit Wes around the head, but Blaine stood up suddenly, apparently not having heard him.

"I've got it! I have a genius plan!" Oh no, was the thought that ran through my head.

'**Oh dear' was mine. Same principle though.**

"This isn't on the same genius level as 'Operation Mentor', is it?" He made a dismissive noise, heading towards the door.

"No, no, no, this is _far_ better." He exited the room, shutting the door. I looked around slowly, and then grinned at Wes.

"Hey, Wesley."

"What, David?"

"Blaine's left us in his room. Unsupervised." Wes grinned at me – I knew that an equally evil grin was on my face.

"Itching powder?" He asked me.

"Never leave my room without it."

* * *

I was in the middle of a brilliant dream that night – there were hot girls, mountains of food, hot girls, video games, hot girls, and a flute-playing dwarf – when a quiet, persistent knocking woke me up rudely. I checked the time – three in the morning – and stumbled to the door.

"What the... _Kurt_? What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He smiled sheepishly at me.

"I'm locked out of my dorm room."

"Right... I fail to see why you needed to wake me up. Couldn't you have bunked with Blaine, who's on the same _floor_ as you?" Kurt looked confusedly at me.

"I thought Blaine was with you... He's not in his dorm room. Look, can I come in, it's _freezing_ out here." I sighed, and then felt Wes appear at my side.

"Why're you talking? Sleep. It's early. Now." Wes is rather incoherent if he's woken up.

**You're not the model of fluency either, you know.**

"Kurt's locked out." Wes looked at me as if I were mad.

"Let him in. Then I can sleep. Not difficult. Sleeping bag in the drawer. Night." He shuffled off, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Come on. You can explain yourself in the morning," I said to Kurt, turning around to find that he'd already worked his way past me, and was rummaging through the drawer. "I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up again, and I won't be held responsible for my actions."

* * *

"Damn, David, I had the _weirdest_ dream last night. I dreamt that Kurt got in _really_ late, and ended up sharing with us, and then I fell out of the window and landed in a pool of ice cream."

"That wasn't a dream. Well, the latter part was, I think, but I definitely did end up sharing with you," a tired voice said from the foot of our beds – Kurt sat up, his hair fluffy and all over the place. It was quite possibly the _cutest_ thing I'd ever seen.

**I'll tell him that. Blaine would love it.**

"Oh. Care to explain yourself, Hummel?" I said, sitting up in bed. Kurt ran a hand over his face, looking like he was trying to massage life into it.

"Not much to explain. Got back late, snuck in – _told_ you we were effective spies – tried to get into my room. Realised that I'd left my key inside, and that Nick was spending the night at his girlfriend's, so I couldn't get in. Knocked on Blaine's dorm, but no one answered, so I figured he'd be here, turned up here, and the rest is history. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have morning breath." He shuffled out of the sleeping bag.

"Wait, how do you plan on getting rid of said morning breath?" He looked at Wes curiously.

"With my emergency toothbrush? You know, David always carries itching powder, you always put emergency money down your socks, and I always carry a toothbrush." He smirked at the looks of shock on Wes's faces and mine. "Once again, you're speaking to a McKinley spy. We know _everything_." Whipping out a toothbrush from God knows where, he made his way into our ensuite bathroom.

"Wes, quick question. If Blaine wasn't in his room last night, and he wasn't here, then where was he?"

"Don't know," Wes said. "Don't want to know. If he didn't tell us, it's probably something to do with the Master Plan, and I want to remain ignorant of that for as long as reasonably possible. Kurt, come on, I want to go to breakfast!" Kurt popped his head out of the bathroom, toothpaste foam around his mouth.

"Aren't you even going to _brush your teeth_?" He said, sounding scandalised.

"Nope. Never do it before breakfast. You've never complained about me having morning breath before, so I don't see the issue." Kurt, however, didn't look convinced, and was staring at Wes as if he were diseased.

"I'm done. Just let me wipe my face."

"No time, Kurt, we're hungry." We each grabbed one of his elbows and marched him, backwards, out of the room.

"Guys, seriously, there's toothpaste around my mouth! People are going to think I've got _rabies_."

"Kurt, where're you going to have got rabies from?" I said reasonably. "Worse case scenario, people will think it's... _you know_..." I winked and nudged Kurt in the ribs. He turned a hilarious shade of scarlet and squealed,

"That's even _worse_!"

"David, seriously, it's too early in the morning for bawdiness. I don't want to think about what substances Kurt may or may not have around his mouth." As he said that, two younger boys walked past, looked at Kurt's mouth and started sniggering. Kurt flushed, pulled his arm from my grip, and started wiping his mouth furiously.

"This is all I need – stories flying round that I've got _that_ round my mouth. I swear, if it spreads around the school, I'm transferring again and moving to Alaska." He removed his hand – the toothpaste had gone, but his lips had turned very pink. Wes smirked at him, and Kurt glared at him.

"I blame you for this entirely, Wesley."

"Ooh," I said, "don't let that get round. People might start thinking that it was _Wes_ who-" Both Wes and Kurt screamed simultaneously in protest, and chased me all the way to the breakfast hall – where they crashed into me as I stopped suddenly.

"Holy _shit_."

**Normally, I would tell Uncle David off for swearing, but this was seriously a 'Shit' moment. There aren't many other words to describe it.**

"Ow – David, warn a guy if you're going to stop, yeah?" Wes said from the floor. "Kurt, dude, you alive?" Kurt groaned in response. "Great, David, you broke Kurt."

"Wes. _Wes_. I know what Blaine's plan is. It's a stupid plan. Worse than any plan he's ever concocted in his entire life. Don't look, Wes, it'll hurt your-"

"What the hell is he doing with Steve?" I tried to warn you.

**I know. I appreciate the attempt.**

"Guys, I can't see, what's happening? Are you purposely blocking my view?" It occurred to both of us simultaneously that, while Blaine was _completely_ oblivious to how Kurt felt, Wes and I knew all about it – and seeing Blaine getting it on with Steve at breakfast was probably not what he wanted to see.

"Kurt, for the sake of your sanity, I'm going to have to kidnap you," Wes said – and in the most amazing display of ninja skills I've ever seen, he'd whipped off his tie, blindfolded Kurt, hauled him over his shoulder and was running down the hall.

**What can I say? I'm just that awesome.**

"Talk to Blaine!" Wes shouted as he careered down the hall.

"_Wesley, put me down NOW_!" I heard Kurt scream in the distance. Making my way over to where Blaine and Steve were, I tapped Blaine on the shoulder.

"Can I have a word?" Blaine looked at Steve.

"Uh, not right now." I sighed.

"Let me rephrase that. I need a word. Steve, piss off." Steve looked affronted, and marched off. Blaine glared at me.

"That was rude, David."

"Rude? Sorry, did we all decide to forget that he dumped you for a girl? I guess I wasn't there for that particular meeting. What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"Maybe he apologised – did you think of that?" Blaine said angrily, looking at me with narrowed eyes as he spooned cereal into his bowl.

"Blaine, don't lie to me, I know you better than that. You'd never forgive him, even if he did apologise, so he's told you either he's pregnant with your child, or there's some ulterior motive in this for you. And don't go with your 'feelings', because yesterday you were crying to Kelly Clarkson about someone _entirely different_." He shushed me frantically, pulling me away from the gathering crowd of boys.

"Not so loud! All right, fine, I'm doing it to make Kurt jealous. Happy? It was the only thing I could think of that might have an effect." He paused, and subtly tried to scratch his backside. The itching powder still works, then, Wes.

**Good. He deserved it. Although how we managed to subconsciously know that, I don't know.**

"That's _lame_, Blaine. Why didn't you just talk to Kurt, instead of going at it with Steve?" Blaine shrugged sheepishly.

"I panicked? I've never been very good at this whole romance stuff, David. I'm not like you, who just clicks his fingers and girls fall at his feet."

"What, girls like April? Yes, that's an amazing achievement."

"At least she's dating you! I'd rather that than, you know, _nothing_." Blaine looked up from his finished bowl of cereal in surprise. "I need to cheer up; otherwise I'm going to eat all the food at Dalton. What do you think I should do?"

"Stop comfort eating?" Blaine scoffed.

"That's an ingrained habit that I'm never going to get rid of. I meant about Kurt."

"I don't know, Blaine, talk to him? Tell him that you're overly obsessed with his hair, that you drool whenever he sings – I don't care, whatever works." He stood up, pushing his chair back so that it fell over.

"You're right. Come on." Grabbing me by the elbow – so long, half-finished bowl of cereal! – He pulled me out of the hall.

"Where're we _going_, Blaine? I was kind of hoping to eat breakfast this morning..."

"We're going to find Kurt, and you're going to force me to talk to him," Blaine said, pulling me along behind him.

After a few minutes of Blaine dragging me by the arm, we came across Wes and Kurt – Kurt was glaring at Wes, who was apologising profusely for carting Kurt off down the hall.

"Okay, wish me luck, David," Blaine said, squaring his shoulders.

**You should've shoved him towards us. Would've saved us a lot of trouble.**

Just as Blaine started walking towards Kurt, Steve appeared from God knows where and pulled Blaine in for a kiss.

**It was horrific. Kurt turned round, saw those two getting it on, and nearly cut off the blood circulation to my hand with his death grip. **

Hey, at least you had Kurt for company. I was stood there, staring, like some sort of awkward third wheel.

**Kurt didn't stick around for long, you know. He just looked at them in shock, and then took off down the hall as if he was on **_**wheels**_**.**

And then when we didn't see him for the rest of the day, we felt we _had_ to check up on him after school...

* * *

I knocked on the door, and a faint 'Come in!' resounded from within. I opened the door and walked in, Wes following close behind. Kurt was sat on his bed, sandwiched between Mercedes and that Berry girl, with a movie-playing laptop balanced on his knee. He looked up, paused the movie and smiled.

"Hey, David, hi Wes. We were just watching 'Cats'; it's one of the few musicals all three of us can watch all the way through together – the other is 'Rent', but we finished watching that an hour ago. Rachel likes the songs, Mercedes likes the dancing, and I – well, I won't lie; I watch it for the Rum Tum Tugger."

"So... You're all right then. You weren't in lessons today, and we were worried..." Kurt gestured to Mercedes and Rachel, who were watching him furtively.

"These two kidnapped me. I'm fine." Mercedes rolled her eyes, plucked the laptop from Kurt's lap and started playing games on it. Rachel, meanwhile, leapt up and said hysterically,

"You're not 'fine' though, are you, Kurt?" Kurt looked up at Rachel and said, through gritted teeth,

"I'm _fine_, Rachel." She tucked her hair behind her ears, and smiled sympathetically at Kurt.

"Kurt, the first step to solving a problem is admitting that you _have_ a problem. I'm just saying that-"

"Rachel," Kurt said, examining his nails. "Just... go sit in the corner and hum Broadway showstoppers to yourself." Mercedes sniggered, while Rachel stuck out her bottom lip and pouted.

"I'm only trying to help, Kurt." Mercedes looked eagerly at Kurt, as if she was expecting a snappy retort. However, Kurt seemed to deflate, and sighed despondently.

"I know. Sorry, Rachel." Instead of cheering up, Rachel threw herself onto Kurt's lap, and started to shake him by the shoulders.

"No! That's not what you're supposed to say!"

"Berry, you break my best friend and I _will_ cut you." Rachel looked over at Mercedes fearfully, who was still playing games on Kurt's laptop nonchalantly. Gently removing her hands from Kurt's shoulders, and sliding off Kurt's lap, Rachel carried on with her admonition.

"I say 'I'm only trying to help', and you say," she paused, did a _very_ good impression of Kurt's 'I'm better than you' face, and said, "'I don't want your help, _Berry_'. Then I say 'Fine, wallow in self-pity, see if I care', then _you_ say 'At least I still have my _voice_, which is more than you have during your 'Pity-Me' sessions'. Then I shriek at you, you sneer at me, I go to mess up your hair, Mercedes pulls us apart, sits in between us and we carry on with the film. It's the way the world works!"

"I just don't feel like it, Rach, I'm s-," Rachel hissed angrily.

"Don't even _think _about saying the 'S' word. Kurt Hummel does not apologise to Rachel Berry, just the same as Mercedes Jones will not admit to Rachel Berry that the latter is the more talented. These are the facts of life, and you will _not_ abuse them!" Mercedes suddenly looked up from the laptop with a dreamy expression on her face.

"I've just had an epiphany, Rachel. You're right – you _are_ more talented than me." Kurt and Rachel looked at each other, then at Mercedes, in utter shock. Mercedes shook her head, and suddenly glared at Rachel. "More talented at being a big-headed, self-absorbed diva." Rachel clapped her hands in delight.

"See, Kurt? She sticks to the laws of nature, and everything works out fine."

"Okay, I admit it, I've got a problem. But honestly – can you blame me? Rachel, how would you like it if Finn suddenly started making out with random girls?" Mercedes slapped her forehead in despair.

"He does that, remember?" Kurt's face fell, but Rachel just smiled at Kurt, as if she had some divine secret she was going to share. "And you know what I do? Hold my chin up high, pretend it doesn't bother me, and then go home and belt sad songs at my mirror." She got very close to Kurt, examining his face.

**Kurt only looked faintly uncomfortable. I guess she did that to him a lot.**

"I don't think sad songs are going to help you," Rachel said finally. "Pity. I'd have quite liked to hear you sing 'Fields of Gold'. Oh well, some other time."

"Rachel, what I _need_ is a tub of ice cream, the latest edition of 'Vogue', and for my room to be less full of people." Kurt looked at us pointedly. "Say, _four_ less."

I resent that. We weren't doing anything.

**Welcome to my world.**

Rachel suddenly grinned at Mercedes, who frowned back confusedly. Kneeling in front of Kurt, she sang,

"_What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play..._"

"Oh no. Don't start quoting 'Cabaret' to me, Berry."

"_We are young! Heartache to heartache we stand! No promises, no demands – love is a battlefield!_"

"Mercedes," Kurt said slowly, "I thought we agreed – no joining in with the 'Berry Lyric Quote Cheer-Up Routine', because it _doesn't work._"

"True," Mercedes said, shrugging. "I just wanted to sing that song." She looked over at us suddenly. "You two have been awful quiet – what do _you_ suggest we do?"

"Kill Blaine?" Wes replied quickly. "It'll solve a lot of problems – Kurt's and ours."

"No murder. If we're going to do anything, it needs to be legal in _at least_ 48 states," Rachel said, sitting on the floor and crossing her legs beneath her.

"I don't see why we need to 'do' anything," said Kurt, flopping backwards onto his bed. "Blaine's perfectly entitled to make out with whoever he likes – even if that someone looks like he's never so much as _heard_ of a hairbrush in his life."

"Wait a second – you two know something else, don't you? Something you're not telling us." Mercedes pointed at both of us accusingly, and Rachel gasped.

"That's not the rules! If you're in the room with us, you share _all_ information, for the good of the sanity of all involved!" I shifted my weight guiltily from foot to foot, and Wes mumbled something quietly. "What was that, Wesley? Didn't quite catch that."

"Blaine doesn't actually _like_ Steve." Rachel and Mercedes squealed at each other in delight, but Kurt just scoffed.

"Oh, please, of course he does. Why else would Blaine let 'Steve' shove his tongue down his throat in front of decent people, who were just trying to make their way to lessons?" I love the way he includes quotation marks around Steve's name.

"Because he's trying to make you jealous?" Sorry, Blaine. Kurt's sanity was at risk here, and he was the only one of us that had any left.

**I like to think I had some.**

'Had' being the operative word there.

"Come again?" Kurt said quietly.

"He saw you with Sam, panicked, thought he was your boyfriend," Kurt, Mercedes and Rachel all snickered there, "so he's trying to make you jealous." Kurt sat up so quickly that he nearly went head first over the end of the bed. His eyes were wide as he said,

"Oh. That makes all the difference."

"You know, I think Rachel was on to a good plan of action for dealing with this," I said, sitting on the floor next to said Rachel. Kurt looked at me as if I was clinically insane.

"You think I should sing sad songs to my reflection?" Rachel nodded vigorously, but I shook my head.

"Not that bit. The 'pretend it doesn't bother you' part."

"But it does bother me. Quite a bit, actually." Apparently, Kurt didn't understand the concept of 'pretend' in this plan.

"I can tell. But _Blaine_ doesn't need to know that." A slow smirk dawned on Kurt's face.

"Okay, guys, help me with our plan of action."

* * *

"Hey, Blaine, congratulations on getting back with Steve!" Kurt patted a startled Blaine on the shoulder, before pulling up a seat to join us at breakfast the following morning. "It's _so_ good that you're together again. Brilliant, even. You must be so happy – I know I would be." Wes, who had been scrawling something on his notepad he'd been doing homework on, subtly threw a scrunched up ball of paper at Kurt's forehead. He unfolded it, read the note, and flushed pink.

"What'd you write?" I muttered to him out of the corner of my mouth.

"'Painfully obvious'," Wes whispered back.

"So," I said, to defuse the awkwardness – Kurt was glaring at a bird singing on the windowsill outside, while Blaine was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Everyone ready for Warblers practice?"

"Oh, did I not tell you? I can't come. Dad's got more tests at the hospital, and I promised Carole I'd drive down to see him. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, not at all!" Blaine said quickly – at such a speed, in fact, that Kurt threw him a confused look. "I – I mean-"

"What Blaine _means, _Kurt_,_ is take as much time as you need. Family comes first," I said.

"Right..." Kurt replied, still looking at Blaine oddly. "Well, I'd best go. Traffic's looking bad, and if I want to get back to Lima in time I need to-"

"I'm sorry!" Blaine blurted out, looking like a man possessed. "I admit it, I only kissed Steve to make you jealous, but now he won't leave me _alone_, and you're not even _bothered, _and-"

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt said, smiling beatifically, his cheeks a dusty pink. "Why don't you just be yourself?"

* * *

Oh, Kurt, why did you have to go and say _that_?

**Blissfully unaware as to what he had just unleashed onto the world, Kurt went on his merry way, leaving us with a manic, wide-eyed Blaine. I could practically **_**hear**_** the thoughts barrelling around in his head.**

And they weren't pleasant thoughts, of sweet things like food and nature and newborn babies and such. No, these were _Blaine Plans_ – but far worse, because Kurt had just given him permission to 'be himself'.

**Curse you, Kurt Hummel.**

**However, as I can't really ask you all for your addresses - internet safety and everything, guys - I shall send you _virtual cake_. And hugs. Because I love you all.**

**Well, now that I've just used up my quota of love for the _year_, I'm going to track down Glee songs I haven't heard yet. Or, failing that, I'm going to put 'Animal' on repeat. Again.**

* * *

**Author's Note (again): I just want to take a few minutes out of your hectic lives to thank EVERYONE who's read, favourited, reviewed (I do read them all), alerted, or wiped their arse with this story... Okay, maybe not the latter, because that's somewhat weird. But DEFINITELY the four former. Seriously, you're all so lovely that I want to mail you all cake or something.**


	7. Manic Eye Gleams

**Author's Note: A miracle has happened in our house – my parents are now Gleeks. Especially my mum – I think the only reason my dad watches it is because he's in love with Gwyneth Paltrow.**

**Disclaimer – I don't own anything you recognise. I'd **_**like**_** to say I have my own Chris Colfer, but I don't think it's legal.**

* * *

"_The first time ever I saw your face, your face,_

_Your face... Your face..._" There was laconic clapping from the Warblers – aside from Kurt, who was clapping quickly and hard.

**But even **_**Kurt**_** wasn't clapping as enthusiastically as he usually did. **

You may be wondering, children of Klaine, why Blaine was receiving such a lacklustre response. Well, we were all very appreciative of Blaine's singing ability – as our lead, he was the one who won us competitions, I have to admit. However, ever since Kurt told Blaine that he just needed to 'be himself' around him, it was like... an _eruption_.

You may think I'm over exaggerating. It was as if Blaine's romantic, sappy playlist had been released into the wild, and every Warblers practice that week involved Blaine singing love songs to Kurt. We all thought it was the most adorable thing we'd ever

**been forced to witness**

for the first two songs; Blaine looked so happy, and Kurt went a brilliant shade of magenta. However, the songs just kept coming... and coming. And coming.

**And coming. And**

Yes, I think they get the point.

"Thank you, Blaine," Thad said, admiringly managing to prevent his eye from twitching. "Does anyone else want to sing?" We all shook our heads, aside from Blaine, who had that manic 'I'm going to sing' gleam in his eye. Just as he was about to speak, Thad said abruptly, "Okay, let's call it a day then, gentleman. Rehearsals at the same time tomorrow." There was a sudden flurry of activity, and then the room was empty, leaving hastily pushed back chairs strewn around the room, music sheets in messy piles on the piano, and myself, David, Kurt, and Blaine in the middle of the room, feeling lost and confused.

"...What just happened?" Kurt said, looking around the room.

"That rare phenomenon was 'Bored Warbler Syndrome'. After a very boring meeting, Warblers will rush to exit the room, in order to remedy the situation by going out, calling their girlfriends, or going on their respective gaming stations," I said wisely.

"You make us sound like we're animals under surveillance, Wes," David said, glaring at Blaine, who was humming 'Without Love' under his breath.

"Blaine," I said. "Haven't you got a meeting you're supposed to be in at the moment?" He didn't, but I knew that, firstly, he had an awful memory, so wouldn't call me up on it, and secondly, David looked like he wanted to slowly dissect Blaine – whilst he was still living. So, I felt it was my duty to save Blaine, if only to prevent Kurt from languishing in grief.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. I'll see you guys later." He rushed out of the room – maybe he _did_ have a meeting, because he didn't actually ask me where this supposed meeting was. Blaine had barely walked out of sight before David turned to Kurt and me and said, with wide, serial-killer-like eyes,

"I can't _take_ anymore of this! Kurt, why did you have to tell him to 'be himself'?"

"I'm sorry; I was expecting him to turn up at my dorm with flowers and two tickets to see 'Wicked'. How was I supposed to know he'd _sing_ to me?" Kurt, however, didn't look too distraught.

"Kurt, the guy sings along to Disney – he practically _secretes_ cheesy Disney serenading charm." Kurt nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to tell him to stop singing to me. I like it, so you're just going to have to talk to him about it." He shrugged, picked up his bag, and then carried on. "Besides, I'm sure you two are equally sappy when it comes to girls."

"No," I said quickly. "And neither is David... David, you haven't... oh my God, you _have_, haven't you?" David scowled at me, and Kurt looked at both of us in anticipation.

"What's David done?"

"He's _sung_ to April. God, I think I'll just leave you, Kurt and Blaine to your crushes, and find new friends who _appreciate_ being single."

"Wes, just because Santana mentally scarred you for life, it doesn't mean you should avoid romance altogether!" Kurt said, looking at me as if I were deprived of everything wonderful in life. "Tell you what, this weekend, I'll lend you 'The Notebook' on DVD. That'll install a healthy love of... well, _love_, in you."

What I didn't tell Kurt was that I'd already _seen_ 'The Notebook', I had an appreciation of love anyway, I just wanted new friends who didn't sing love songs to people. There was only so much crazy one guy could take, you know, before he eventually started killing people with his fingernails.

* * *

"Alright, Warblers, who would like to perform next?"

"I'd like to-"

"No!" David cut across Blaine hurriedly at our next rehearsal. "No, no, no no no! Do not let _him_ sing again! I – I'm calling a Warblers Injunction!" There were groans of irritation around the room – myself included. Kurt leaned over towards me and whispered,

"What's a 'Warbler's Injunction'?"

"Basically an intervention," I replied. "Any Warbler can call one on another Warbler, to stop them from singing for one reason or another. It's in effect for a week, so no one really uses it – too harsh. Well," I sighed. "_Almost_ all of us. David calls one on Blaine at least twice a month." Kurt tried – and failed – to stifle a gasp.

"So, Blaine's not allowed to sing for a _week_?"

"Depends." I grinned smugly at Kurt, who glared angrily back.

"Don't push me. 'Depends' on what?"

"A couple of things. What David decides the terms of the Injunction are, and whether there's a majority vote. There probably won't be, though, because David always calls these, and Blaine hasn't been Injuncted yet."

"Is that even a word?" Kurt said, looking visibly calmer. He sat back in his seat, and we both turned our attention to David.

"David," Thad said tiredly. "What is it _this time_?"

"I want you to tell Blaine to stop singing to Kurt. I'm all for them getting together and shagging each other senseless, but Warbler's meetings seem to have become a chance for 'PDA' for Blaine. You see, fellow Warblers," David stood up and started pacing around the room. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Blaine seems to be part robot." I put my head in my hands in despair. "He doesn't understand human mating rituals – I think he believes that singing is a form of sex." I looked up to see Blaine and Kurt staring at David in horror.

"Exhibit A," David said, pointing at Blaine. "His bedroom eyes whenever he sings to Kurt. Exhibit B – he uses words like 'fornicate'."

"That was _one_ time!" Blaine said frantically, trying to dispel the strange looks he was starting to get from people. "And I don't see how that is relevant!"

"Therefore," David continued, "he shouldn't sing to Kurt for _at least_ a week, because I'm tired of watching Robot Blaine attempting to fornicate with Kurt. I rest my case." David sat down, obviously pleased with his argument. There was a stunned silence, and then Nick piped up,

"I think David's got a point." Warbler heads spun to stare at Nick in bewilderment. "Not about the robot thing, but the PDA thing, yeah. I always thought we were only allowed to sing two highly emotional songs a week, and no more."

"That's true," Jeff added. "I got Injuncted after my breakup with Katie, and I only sang three songs – Blaine's done at least _eight_."

"Eight?" Blaine laughed mockingly. "That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?"

"Well," Nick said, counting on his fingers as he listed; "there was 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight', 'I Will Always Love You', 'Take My Hand'-"

"Which was certainly an experience and a half," David chipped in.

"Oh," Jeff put in, "don't forget that timeless classic, 'Holding Out For A Hero'-"

"Okay, I get your point. But come on, Thad, it could be worse!" Blaine said despairingly. Nodding, Thad turned to David.

"Name the terms." David smiled wickedly, Blaine almost shrieked in shock, and Kurt moaned and glared at me – which I still don't understand, because I didn't _do_ anything. I'm guessing it was another 'David and Wes are the same person' moment.

"_Thad!_"

"As you said, Blaine, you could be worse. And that is precisely what I'm trying to prevent. Terms, David."

"Well, they're simple. Blaine is not allowed to sing at, to, or for Kurt during Warblers meetings for a week, starting today. In private, they can do what they like-" he winked at Blaine, who flushed in embarrassment." If they want, they can pull a High School Musical, and perform to each other in the hallways – just not _here_. Blaine can sing for any other purpose, though – I'm not _that_ cruel." Thad nodded again.

"Seems fair. All in favour?" A sea of hands shot up before Thad had ended the question – in fact, every hand bar Blaine and Kurt's rose in the air.

"Right... It's pretty obviously unanimous, but for record keeping's sake..." Thad muttered under his breath, counting the hands waving in the air. "Nine, ten, ele- David, put your other hand down... Okay, including my vote, that's fourteen votes to two. Well, if that's everything, I guess we can call it a day." We all left the room, David practically skipping from smugness.

"Wesley, you voted in _favour_?" Blaine said, looking up at me like a kicked puppy. I shrugged.

"Well, yeah. You have to admit, Blaine, it was getting a bit out of hand. At least you can still _sing_, Blaine."

"That's true," Kurt added, smiling at Blaine sympathetically. "It'd be a lot worse if you couldn't sing at all."

**I remember thinking that Kurt was taking this surprisingly well, considering that Blaine wasn't allowed to sing to him for a week.**

That's because he could still listen to the sound of Blaine's voice.

**...And that was probably the cheesiest statement I've ever heard from you.**

"But, Kurt, I _like_ singing to you. It helps me focus!"

"Well, _imagine_ you're singing to me, then." Kurt said, his cheeks slowly turning pink. Blaine, who had been looking at Kurt as if he were the font of all knowledge, rolled his eyes.

"That's not going to help, is it?" He suddenly brightened visibly. "But don't worry, faithful friends – or friend, as Kurt was the only one who didn't vote for my Injunction... Anyway, faithful friend and backstabbing traitors do not fear – I have a plan."

"Blaine, you are many things," Kurt said slowly.

**I could practically see him listing Blaine's 'many' qualities in his head.**

"But I've noticed that a planner isn't one of them. Rather than making plans, why don't you go back to your dorm and find something else to do?"

"But _Kurt_," Blaine whined, looking at Kurt beseechingly. "This is a _good_ plan. You'll enjoy this one. I promise it doesn't involve the three S's." Kurt hesitated, and then nodded.

"Whoa, wait, what are these three S's, and why do they justify Blaine being allowed to plan?" I said, holding up my hands in distress. Kurt smirked at me, as if this were revenge for some crime I had unknowingly committed. It was probably the fact that I was friends with David.

**I – no, wait, that's usually why people try to exact revenge on you.**

"I've told Blaine that he could only go through with plans if they didn't involve the following – my sanity, my safety, or my scarves."

"What about mine and Wes's safety, sanity, and scarves?"

"Speak for yourself, I don't own any scarves. Come to think of it, you don't have any sanity either, so we're in the same boat." David laughed sardonically, stopped suddenly and glared at me.

"No. Now, Kurt, what is this blatant disregard of your friends in the face of Blaine Plans?" David poked Blaine as identification, but Blaine appeared to be walking comatose – deep in the planning process, I guessed.

"Sorry, but it's every man for himself in these situations. I suggest you think about drawing up Blaine Protection Contracts at some point, they're handy things to have."

* * *

David and I were nervous _wrecks_ by the end of that week. We still hadn't seen any evidence of a plan gone wrong, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that we were overlooking something blatantly obvious.

What was even worse, however, was that Kurt was in on the plan, and kept grinning at us smugly whenever either of us asked about it.

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" He'd say. "Trust me, it's actually a brilliant plan. Well, maybe not for _one_ of you – but I guarantee the other one will enjoy this as much as I will."

It was nearly the end of Blaine's Injunction week, and he'd kept a pretty low profile – not singing during meetings, but choosing to pass notes with Kurt. Unless Kurt was singing, in which case he'd drop everything and stare at him in an adoring, creepy fashion. But it was during the last rehearsal, the last one where Blaine wouldn't be able to sing to Kurt, that Blaine stood up and said,

"Thad, I'd like to perform a song, please." Thad looked at him quizzically – Blaine had the manic gleam in his eye again; it was strangely terrifying.

"Remember the terms of your Injunction, Blaine. I'd hate to have to take this further." Blaine nodded, and Kurt turned to me.

"What happens if you break an Injunction, Wes?"

"I..." I paused. "I have _no_ idea. No one's done it. Huh. You'd think we'd have come up with the punishment before coming up with the warning. I can't believe we actually abide by Injunctions when we don't have a punishment to go with it..."

"Okay, I'm ready." Suddenly I knew – this was it. Whatever happened here was the Plan.

And I can't describe the _relief_ I felt when Blaine turned away from me and towards

**Me. And because I'm not as quick as Wes is, I remember thinking 'Aw, bless him, he's lost without someone to sing to', and I smiled pityingly at him. Why I didn't run for the hills then, I don't know, and I never will know. So, really, it was almost **_**my**_** fault. Almost. It was mainly Blaine's fault, after all.**

I caught Kurt's eye, and he grinned at me, settling back in his chair to watch the spectacle unfold. I half expected him to procure popcorn from somewhere on his person.

Blaine took a deep breath and broke into song, all while staring at David intently.

"_I can make you feel special,_

_When it sucks to be you..._" David, bless him, has a minimal knowledge of musicals, so was still looking at Blaine interestedly. Meanwhile, nearly every other Warbler in the room was staring at David, waiting for a reaction – except for Kurt and me; Kurt was watching Blaine avidly, and I was watching Thad, who looked like he was trying desperately hard not to laugh.

"_Let me make you feel special,_

_For an hour or two._" Blaine started walking towards David, who was beginning to look slightly concerned as to where the song was going.

"_You're life's a routine that repeats each day,_

_No one cares who you are, or what you say._

_And sometimes you feel like you're nobody,_

_But you can feel like somebody... With me._" David was looking _very_ uncomfortable by that point – he'd squashed himself into the back of his chair, with Blaine leaning close to him, practically murmuring the song to him.

"_When we're together the earth will shake,_

_And the stars will fall into the sea._

_So come on, baby, let down your guard,_

_When your date's in the bathroom, I'll slip you my card!" _Blaine sat on David's lap, causing Kurt to splutter – it occurred to me that if Blaine wasn't Injuncted, he might have sung this to Kurt. I'm guessing that Kurt had had the same epiphany.

_I can tell just by looking that you've got it hard..." _Blaine paused, staring at a very discomfited David. He leaned closer to David and whispered,

"_For... Me." _Blaine jumped up from David's lap, and ran back into the middle of the room, whilst singing,

"_For me! For me! For me! For me!_

_I can tell just by looking that you are especially _hard_."_ He looked pointedly at David, who was studiously avoiding his gaze.

"_For me!_" There was silence, and then the room erupted with laughter and applause. Blaine bowed pretentiously, and grinned at Kurt, who was clapping with a half proud, half turned-on expression on his face.

"Okay, I get the point!" David said when the noise had died down. "I won't get in the way of the Klaine again. Jeez, there was no need to lyrically molest me to tell me that."

* * *

"So, Blaine, what does it feel like, being off Injunction?" Kurt said after Warbler's practice. Blaine stretched his arms above his head.

"Feels _great_, Kurt. Really liberating."

"I'm not sure why you're _stretching_," David said irritably. "It's not like we _handcuffed_ you or anything."

"Don't mind him," I said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "He's just upset that your revenge was better than anything he could've come up with."

**With hindsight, yes, I'm willing to admit that it was **_**brilliant**_** revenge. At the time, though, I just wanted to kill him.**

"True," Blaine said thoughtfully. Apparently, having one successful plan had gone to Blaine's head. "Anyone up for coffee?" David looked set to answer, but I jumped in.

"Can't, David and I have got a project due in for World History. Feel free to go with Kurt though." They both nodded and walked off – probably discussing whether the original cast of 'Avenue Q' were better.

"Why'd you say that?" David said miserably.

You were in a _foul_ mood that day. Just feel like I should tell you.

**I know. Not going to apologise for it, because I feel it was totally justified.**

"We could've gone out for coffee. We don't even _have _a project set for World History."

"Firstly, we _do_ have a project for World History, but it's not due in till the end of the month – don't leave it till breakfast on the morning it's due in, you won't be able to cope. Secondly, what's happened now, because we haven't gone for coffee with them?" David shrugged indifferently. "They've gone out. On their own. Following, David?" He sighed.

"Alright, I'll go spy on them with you. But only because you asked."

"I didn't ask, actually. You came to that conclusion on your own. Cheer up, David, we're going to watch some awkward Klaine interaction!"

* * *

"I can't _hear_ them." I said, straining my ears. David just sighed again. "Oh, for God's sake, David, cheer the hell up. It was _one_ revenge plan."

"But _Wes_!" David sat up from his lolling position on the floor. "You don't understand! _I'm_ supposed to be the plan maker – if Blaine's making better plans than I am, I'm losing my touch! If I don't have plans, I don't have anything, and – Oh, oh, oh, they're holding _hands_!" He suddenly squealed, pointing at Blaine and Kurt. I pressed my nose against the window of the coffee shop.

**You know, we spend an unhealthy amount of time in bushes by eatery windows.**

"What happened there! Damn it, David, you made us miss it! Why did you have to start moaning _then_?"

"Well, sorry, how was I supposed to know they'd make a move? They haven't done anything for months, what were the odds they would while our heads were turned away for less than a minute?" I turned to David, scowling at him.

"We came to spy on them, David, and you distracted us from our duty – I have half a mind to dispose of you as my partner." David turned to face me.

"Yeah, but if you did that, you'd have to do this on your _own_. And how weird would you look doing this by yourself?" He turned back to the window, and gasped. "Wes, Wes, they're leaning in, _they're_ _leaning_ _in_!" If possible, we managed to press our faces closer to the window, watching Kurt and Blaine leaning in towards each other.

"Come on... Just do it, Blaine! Hurry the hell up, before something _else_ manages to go wrong!"

**Famous last words.**

What David and I hadn't counted on, however, was that a window is see-through both ways. A girl, out with her boyfriend, turned towards the window – and let out a piercing shriek that even we could hear when she saw us staring in. In the ensuing chaos of her boyfriend jumping up and threatening us through the window, the girl pointing us out hysterically to the management, and David jumping into the air in fright, Blaine and Kurt happened to see us.

**Funny, that.**

They both stormed out of the coffee shop and glared down at us, standing with identical hands on their hips.

"Care to explain why you're in the bush?" Kurt said quietly.

"Actually, it's a funny story. But we'll have to tell you some other time, because the manager seems to be coming out to give us a restraining order."

"He's not the only one, David!" Blaine said shrilly, his face flushed red – although from anger, embarrassment or frustration, I couldn't tell.

"Just remember that we're doing this because we care about you both," David said reasonably. Kurt laughed mockingly.

"So, let me get this straight. You're following us to coffee shops, staring in through the window and scaring strangers because you _care about us_?" He turned to Blaine. "I'm tempted to just hand them over to the authorities."

"Wait, wait, it was _David_ who said that he was doing all that because he cared about you!" I said quickly, holding up my hands in surrender.

"So why're _you_ doing this then, Wes?" I shrugged.

"Because I'm nosy, and I'm waiting for you two to get together with bated breath, because I've got a bet going with Jeff as to when you two are going to get married." They both stared at me, diligently avoiding each other's gaze.

"Kurt, handing them over to the authorities' sounds very good right about now." We did what any self-respecting spies should do in this situation. Run like the wind, and deny everything when asked.

* * *

**So, it wasn't technically **_**our**_** fault this time.**

If we hadn't been there, that girl wouldn't have screamed, and there would have been Klaine kissing galore.

**Yes, but then we get into the whole debate of whether things happen if no one is there to witness it.**

You're confusing matters for the sake of an argument now, aren't you?

**Like this whole thing needs **_**my**_** help confusing it. The poor children of Klaine are probably wondering why their parents were so socially inept as teenagers. **

So... this actually has a purpose, besides telling their children how they got together. It's educating them in relationships – because, let's be honest, neither of those two are exactly qualified to give decent relationship advice.

**Exactly. So, while we're at it: Always use a condom. Because unless you're a stalker, you never **_**truly**_** know where you're partner has been.**

Wow... You've just killed all notion of trust within a relationship. Um... When asking a person out, don't do what Blaine did. Because it's cringe worthy for all involved.

**Learn to put on a condom in the dark, while drunk, with your eyes crossed. It's a skill you take to the grave.**

Not _even_ going to ask.

* * *

**Author's Note 2: This chapter was actually planned as two chapters. There was the Warbler's Injunction, but originally it was **_**Kurt**_** who was going to sing 'Special' to **_**Blaine**_**. However, I don't think Blaine would have been able to cope with all that sheer sexiness (I'm disregarding the last episode – Kurt is sexy, goddammit!) and there would've been Blaine nosebleeds. And Blaine isn't ready for Kurt induced nosebleeds yet. So, I worked it in here – personally, I think I wrote this better than if Kurt had sang it.**

**Regardless of how much I wish for Kurt to sing it in canon, it's not going to happen, so it'll have to stay cooped up in my imagination, along with all the mutant plot bunnies I keep in there...**


	8. 24 Point Checklist of Love

**Author's Note: Oh my days. OH. MY. DAYS. That episode... I have Klaine on the BRAIN now.**

**On a side note, I don't own anything here. Except, you know, the plot. But even that is barely mine, because none of these beautiful characters belongs to me. (...damn it.)**

* * *

This was it. Today was _the_ day. Blaine Anderson was going to ask one Kurt Hummel out on a 'Not-Not-Date'. Or a date. Whichever Kurt would prefer.

Or, at least, that's what Blaine had said. Bearing in mind that, ever since the Hand Hold at the Café Debacle, our morning conversations had gone something like this –

"Good morning, Blaine, how are you?"

"Great, David, and do you know why? Because I'm going to ask Kurt out today. Today feels like a good day for romance – I sense it in my loins."

Okay, maybe he didn't say the latter part. But the former is a direct quote from Blaine himself. It was quite pitiable, really, because this was the conversation _every_ morning.

**Pitiable for us, he means. Not Blaine. Blaine just needed to grow some balls and ask Kurt out, because if he was planning on waiting for Kurt to ask him, we might've been there for a while. But there was no sympathy for Blaine.**

However, one particularly sunny morning, while Wes, Kurt and I were sat at breakfast, innocently discussing our recent biology assignment, Blaine came flouncing – yes, _flouncing_ – in, and practically threw himself into a chair with a loud sigh. However, as all three of us ignored him, he proceeded to sigh louder. And then louder still.

"Blaine, you sound like you're deflating. Either tell us what's wrong, or sigh _silently_," Kurt said after a particularly loud sigh, which actually came out as more of a shriek.

"I don't want to say." Kurt looked slightly put out by this, but then smiled.

"Blaine, you know you can tell-"

"Kurt, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Stop nagging me!" Kurt leaned back in shock, and then stood up with a stony look on his face.

"Fine. Sulk. See if I care. Last time I try to be caring," He muttered to himself under his breath, making violent gestures with his hands as he left the table to go and sit with Jeff, who was struggling through his French homework.

"Blaine, what the hell are you doing? How are you supposed to ask him out if you keep driving him away?" Wes said, rummaging through his bag for something. Blaine growled in frustration, putting his head in his hands.

"I have _no clue_ what I'm doing. None. I spent all of last weekend watching every romantic film I've ever seen again, but none of them seem to deal with teenage guys with spastic hair who want to ask out their stunning best friend who is incredibly fluent in French, and do you have _any_ idea how off-putting it is when he does that?" Blaine flung his head up, face flushed and eyebrows raised.

"Blaine, he's not even _doing_ anything! He's just talking to Jeff..." I said, looking over at Kurt. He didn't _appear_ to be doing anything offensive, but then again, we were dealing with an overly sensitive Blaine then. Anything was liable to set him off on a Kurt related rant.

**Very true. Once, he actually got up and walked out of the room because Kurt was sucking on his pen.**

Wes, we're very comfortable in our sexuality, and _we_ were distracted by that. I think everyone in the _room_ would have walked out, if that didn't look exceptionally weird.

"He's speaking in _French_. In a _French accent_. In that voice he does." 'Voice'? I presumed that he meant a different voice to his everyday one, because Blaine didn't normally get sexually frustrated by Kurt's voice. Rather, he didn't let us see he was sexually frustrated.

**Which makes all the difference.**

"Alright, Blaine, if you say so," I said. "Back to the matter at hand – you do realise that most films deal with the loser trying to ask out their hot best friend, right?" There was a rather sweet look of dawning understanding on Blaine's face, but it fell almost as quickly as it came.

"Regardless, I'm still hopeless at all this romance crap..." Suddenly he let out a shriek – Wes had thrown his gavel at Blaine's head.

**It was a necessary sacrifice. I picked it up off the floor straight after, so it was fine. **

So, that's kind of like the five-second food on the floor rule.

**...Yes. Just not as gross. David, you don't know how many people have **_**peed**_** on the floor.**

Wes, how many people do you know that pee on cafeteria floors?

"You're being pathetic," Wes said, after he had picked up his gavel from the floor and stored it safely in his bag. "Just do whatever – odds are, he'll say yes even if you just mumble incoherently."

"But I want it to be _special_," Blaine whined, slamming his fists on the table. I snapped my fingers as a thought occurred to me.

"Wes and I have both had girlfriends – we'll write you one of those checklist things that girls always seem to use when they ask guys out on dates." Blaine looked sceptical.

"Really? A checklist? I know I'm a Disney fan, but is that really necessary? Or realistic, for that manner?" I waved my hand dismissively.

"You know nothing about the fine art of wooing – let Wes and me handle this." Wes nodded determinedly.

"Yeah, Blaine, you go back to drooling over Kurt's French accent – we'll get back to you by the end of the day."

* * *

"This isn't working!" I yelled, throwing yet another screwed up ball of paper at Wes's dartboard.

"That's because you're supposed to use darts, Davy."

"Oh, ha-ha, aren't we a comedian? You know as well as I do that I meant this God damn list." Wes leaned back contemplatively in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Maybe we're trying to hard. Like Blaine. Think, David, how did you ask April out?" I frowned, thinking back.

"I didn't. April just came up to me and asked me out. No crap, just cut straight to the point. And Blaine's already said he doesn't want to do that." Wes looked disappointed, but then brightened.

"You know what this means, right?" I shrugged and said,

"We're losers of the highest degree, and we have nothing to tell Blaine later, so he'll spiral into Blaine-Depression, and we'll be woken up with 'All By Myself' again in the mornings?" Wes shuddered at the memory – those were dark days – and then smirked,

"No, David, my friend, we are going to _make this up_." I liked it. I liked it a lot. There was just one problem...

"What if it goes wrong? The school is practically smoking from their sexual tension already, and if we make it worse we may be the first school that spontaneously combusts from frustration. Are you willing to take that risk, Wesley?" He nodded.

"Of course I am. I'd rather combust than listen to anymore specifically created playlists from Blaine." Very valid point.

"Okay. Step one – get him alone..."

* * *

"I thought step one said 'get him alone', guys?" Blaine said, looking at both of us crammed behind the curtain.

"It did," I said in as dignified a manner as one can when pressed up against your best friend behind a curtain. "But we're exempt from that rule."

"Because how else will we know if you followed the plan exactly?" Wes added, his cheek squashed against the window. "Okay, this curtain thing isn't working. David, stay here, I'm going to go hide in the wardrobe." He wriggled his way out from the window alcove.

"Alright, fine." Blaine glared at me. "Just don't do anything idiotic."

"Blaine," I said, feigning hurt. "When do I ever do anything idiotic?"

"There was that time you fell over when we were spying on them," Wes said from within the wardrobe – I could just about see his silhouette through the crack between the doors.

"Traitor, I was asking _Blaine_." Blaine gestured manically at us both.

"Shut up, guys, he's on his way!" We both went quiet, peering out from our respective hiding places as Blaine went to sit on his bed. Sure enough, Kurt walked in to Blaine's room, looking at him confusedly.

"What's wrong, Blaine? You sounded like it was urgent on the phone, so I came as fast as these boots would let me... Blaine? Are you alright?" Kurt looked worriedly at Blaine, who was staring at Kurt avidly – and, from what I could tell, his mouth was slightly open.

**Was that his interpretation of step two – make him feel comfortable?**

No, that was probably his own addition – step one and a half: gawk at him like an imbecile.

Eventually, Blaine shook his head, and then smiled at Kurt.

"I need to talk to you. Come sit down." He patted the space on the bed next to him.

**I ask again – was this supposed to make him feel comfortable?**

I think he was taking that rule literally. I suppose his bed _is_ comfortable, even though a bed is the _last_ place you should ask somebody out on a date. It's a bit backward.

Blaine stared at Kurt with wide eyes

**Step three – maintain eye contact. This wasn't going well.**

And then smiled in what was apparently a suave, charming manner. The whole experience was becoming slightly terrifying – I couldn't help but imagine how this was less romance movie, more Hitchcock film.

"Kurt," he said, still staring at Kurt, who was trying to subtly lean away from him. "We've always been honest with each other, right?" Kurt suddenly looked guilty.

"Okay, I admit it; I lied about going to see my dad the other week! Mercedes was feeling really upset, so she asked me to come over, and I _couldn't_ say no, but I knew you wouldn't exactly approve of me ditching practice to see her, but it was a one time thing, and-"

"Kurt!" Blaine said loudly, still looking at him. "I didn't ask you to come here so I could tell you off!" Kurt snapped his mouth shut, and then frowned.

"Well... Why did you..." Something flickered in his face momentarily, but then it was gone. "If you weren't going to call me up on that, why _did_ you want to talk to me?" Blaine fidgeted for a few seconds, and then hastily took hold of Kurt's hand.

"I need to tell you something." Kurt merely looked amused – he had this expression on his face that barely gave anything away. Which was hilarious to watch as an onlooker, but probably _torture_ for Blaine.

**Good.**

"I..." Blaine stuttered to a halt.

**There was no point in that twenty-four point checklist, was there?**

Not really. He forgot most of it. And there were some brilliant points on there. Even when he _did_ remember some them, he didn't actually recall the _whole_ thing.

"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put 'U' and 'I' together."

**I distinctly remember writing, in bold capitals, **_**not**_** to use cliché pick-up lines.**

Kurt took it in his stride, and laughed.

"That's incredibly corny, Blaine. Please tell me you've never used that on anyone, otherwise my perception of you will completely change." His grin widened, and he scooted closer to Blaine. "Now, I'm pretty sure that's _not_ what you're trying to say, so why don't you try again?" I don't know whether he was conscious of it,

**Please. Of **_**course **_**he was.**

Fine. Whether he was aware of it or not, he was sitting close enough for their thighs to touch, causing Blaine to go red and blush.

**Genius, Kurt. Whoever thought Kurt was an innocent child has **_**obviously**_** never seen him in action.**

"Kurt, I was thinking..." Blaine swallowed, and Kurt leaned closer. I resisted the urge to lean forward from behind the curtain; instead keeping perfectly still, so I didn't end up being McCockblocker again.

"Go on," Kurt muttered quietly – Blaine involuntarily leaned in towards him.

"About, you know, the other day at the coffee shop..."

"Yes?" Kurt was starting to look slightly impatient, which said a lot about his self-control – he was literally within breathing distance of Blaine, and he could still manage other facial expressions besides 'brain-fail'.

**Which was better than Blaine himself, who looked like he was going to faint in excitement.**

"And, I..."

"Oh, for the love of-" In a sudden movement, Kurt took hold of Blaine's face with both hands, pulled him closer and was kissing him.

I successfully managed to resist the urge to cheer.

**I won't lie; I did a victory sprinkler dance.**

However, all was not yet well in Klaine-land. After a few seconds, Blaine was still sitting there like a mannequin, and Kurt pulled away awkwardly.

**I nearly threw my gavel at him again. It makes an excellent shuriken. **

"I... I'm sorry, Blaine, I thought... I saw all those screwed-up lists that David and Wes had been making, and I assumed... Oh, _God_, I'm such an idiot, I shouldn't have... I think I'd better..." I know for a fact that Kurt would have left – he had stood up to leave and everything – and that would have probably been the end of Klaine altogether, if Wes hadn't had a 'special moment'.

**...I'd had pins and needles in my foot for quite a while before then. It was really cramped in that wardrobe, but you know, I'm not a sissy, so I wasn't complaining. But then it started to spread up my **_**leg**_**, until my whole leg had gone numb. So, trying to relieve the numbness, I moved it slightly – only **_**slightly**_**, mind you – and this excruciating cramp went through my entire leg. I did what any person would do in my situation.**

"_Nyaaaahh_!" I think that's a reasonable typed up representation of the sound you released, don't you?

**...I guess.**

Luckily for Blaine, Kurt, Wes, me, and you, the children of Klaine, the sound Wes made was enough to shock Kurt into standing still for a few seconds, which then granted Blaine enough time to _get a grip_, stand up quickly and pull Kurt to him to redo their shock of a first kiss.

**...I would love to comment on how beautiful their kiss was, but I was a bit preoccupied with the agony in my leg. I'm sure there were metaphorical fireworks, choirboys singing, and tiny woodland animals present, if that's any consolation.**

You _missed_ it? It was quite hot, actually. There were hands _everywhere_, and short, gasping breaths, and-

**Again, things I – or anyone else, for that matter – don't need to know. Especially their **_**future children**_**.**

Oh. Yeah. Good point. Well, children, just so you're aware, it was beautiful. And there wasn't any sex.

**I give up. You're an uncivilised **_**prick**_**, who really shouldn't be trying to educate anybody, let alone the children of Kurt and Blaine, who are undoubtedly going to be relationship-ly stunted, and awkward when it comes to discussing their feelings.**

* * *

"_Well_," I said, half an hour later, when Kurt and Blaine had _finally _stopped making out long enough for Kurt to remember that he was supposed to call home, and for Blaine to remember that Wes and I were still loitering in his room.

"I know. I didn't even realise that Blaine had it in him," Wes replied, ruffling Blaine's already rumpled hair. When he didn't respond, Wes poked him curiously. "Blaine? You still alive?" He looked at me. "I think he's broken."

"I told you he was a robot. All that sexual chemistry has short-circuited his fuse." Wes looked like he was coming around to my robot theory,

**I blatantly was **_**not**_**.**

When Blaine touched his lips in shock.

"Oh," I said disappointedly. "He's not broken."

"Did that..." Blaine said hoarsely, his eyes wide and bright. "Did I just dream all of that? Please tell me that that was all real." He looked so terrified, that I couldn't help but smile sympathetically, and Wes put a hand on his shoulder.

"All real. Right down to the little moaning noises that Kurt was-" Wes slapped me, but it was enough for Blaine, because his eyes had gone even wider (I was convinced his eyeballs were going to fall out if he wasn't careful) and he bit his fist, a huge grin showing itself around his hand.

"I... _Wow._ I... He tasted-"

"Whoa! No!" Wes blocked his ears with his hands. "Don't need to know, Blaine! Jeez," Wes muttered under his breath, "you're all exhibitionists in the making, I'm serious."

"So, Blaine," I said, thumping him on the arm. "What's the plan of action now?" Blaine looked at me in bafflement, which never bodes well.

"What do you mean, 'plan'? Wasn't that the plan? I thought it went pretty well?" He looked to Wes for confirmation, who shrugged.

**I'd learnt long before then that I should just go with whatever David says, as it makes my life a hell of a lot easier.**

"Yes, if the original plan had been for Wes to shock you into kissing Kurt, but only after he'd kissed you. But it wasn't. The _original_ plan was to ask Kurt out on a date, remember?"

"I thought that a date was a given now, considering we spent about half an hour just then kissing each other." A silly grin lit up Blaine's face at the word 'kissing'.

"No, Blaine. You still have to _ask _someone – why do you think there are one-night stands? If a date is always determined from a kiss, there would be a lot more people on the dating scene, don't you think? Besides," I said in response to the terror on Blaine's face, "the hard bit's done now. You know he likes you, he knows you like him, all you have to do now is say 'Kurt, come with me to Breadstix again, where we can have a proper date, as opposed to a Not-Date, and then you can be my boyfriend and we can have hot sex till morning'. See?" He shook his head frantically.

"I can't."

"Fine. Wes and I will write you an autocue, so you can literally read them off a sheet. Although, Blaine, you really do need to learn how to do these things on your own, because Wes and I can't spend the rest of our lives following you around and helping you charm Kurt." He nodded solemnly.

* * *

Wes passed me the first autocue, which I held up,

**We were using sheets of paper – apparently, the school budget did not account for students needing autocue machines.**

And Blaine read it from where he was stood with Kurt.

"Hey, Kurt." We had to start with the basics, because unless it was spelled out _very_ clearly, Blaine was going to struggle.

"Oh, hey, Blaine, didn't see you there," Kurt replied, a big smile on his face. He was looking at Blaine expectantly – but Blaine was too busy staring at the next autocue to notice.

"Are you busy next..." He tilted his head to the left, and then the right, before throwing his hands up in frustration. "David," he shouted at me. "I can't read your handwriting!"

"Well, _honestly_, what do you _think_ it says? What is it _likely_ to be?" I yelled back. Blaine shrugged, while Kurt looked on in amusement and confusion.

"That requires two different answers. It's _likely_ to be a day, so probably Friday? But _I_ think it says 'Pretag'." Wes and I looked at the autocue – okay, granted, it could be mistaken as 'Pretag', but really, is it likely to say 'Are you busy next Pretag'? No, I thought not.

**Your handwriting is distractingly horrific, David.**

I dislike you, sometimes, with a burning passion.

**But I'm the only person willing to put up with you for more than three hours at a time, so you'll have to manage your 'burning hatred'.**

"Okay, Kurt, it'll probably be easier if I say it myself." Blaine took a deep, steeling breath, "Kurt, come with me to Breadstix again, where we can have a proper date, as opposed to a Not-Date, and then you can be my boyfriend and we can have hot sex till morning." He nodded proudly, while everyone in the room stared on in shock.

"Blaine, you weren't supposed to quote _the whole thing_." I could see in his face that he was thinking back over what he'd just said, and then I could also see in his face when he realised what exactly he had just said.

"Oh, _crap_." He said quietly. Kurt, who was a hilarious shade of purple, looked down at his shoes. "Kurt, I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't mean to say that, it just sort of slipped out, and it was all David's fault, so-"

"Hey, no, don't you go blaming me for your inability to speak in public. You know, I sometimes think that we should only let you sing, because then you're a little less of a tit." Blaine looked set to retort, but his mouth remained open with unsaid words – Kurt had taken hold of his hand, the blush on his cheeks less pronounced.

"I'll have to turn you down for the sex, because we've only been dating for a day, but Breadstix on 'Pretag' sounds great." It took Blaine a few seconds to actually compute what Kurt was saying, and then he grinned up at Kurt.

"You're amazing, you know that?" Kurt smirked.

"So I've heard." His smile softened suddenly. "You're pretty amazing yourself."

**Forget cavities, I was losing **_**teeth**_** at a rate of one per second.**

* * *

"Hello?" I said down the phone, Wes rocking back and forth in excitement beside me.

**You make me sound like a hyperactive child.**

"David? What's happening?"

"'It'. 'It' has happened." There was silence down the phone, and then a gasp and several squeals and shouts.

"Have you put us on speakerphone _again_?"

"Hi, David and Wes!" A loud chorus greeted us from the end of the phone, forcing me to pull the phone away from Wes's ears and mine. Eventually it stopped, and I brought the phone back in time to hear the next comment.

"Alright, spill. How'd it happen?"

"Can't tell you now, they're sat nearby. I was thinking, though, about your offer for us all to go out without a night of plotting against evil exes."

"I'm listening."

"I can't tell you the exact day," I whispered, conscious of the close proximity of Blaine and Kurt – regardless of how wrapped up they were in each other, they still had ears – "But if you name days, I'll tell you which one."

"It's Friday, isn't it? At Breadstix." I blinked in shock. "Please, that's date night at Breadstix practically all over the world. We're not spying in the bush again, are we?"

"Have you got any better ideas? It might look a bit suspicious if we all turn up on the same night."

"Point taken." There was muttering on the other end of the phone. "Okay, unanimous yeses at this end. And don't worry, we'll try not to break into spontaneous performances, but I can't promise anything – you know how we roll." I snorted.

"Yeah, I'm well aware. Talk to you later to sort out minor details."

"S'later." As she hung up, I distinctly heard, in the background,

"I, for one, still think they're trying to spy on us."

* * *

**...We can't really tell them what we learnt. It was kind of obvious. Kurt and Blaine really wanted to get with each other – so they did.**

That's true... So, what now? I feel lost and unimportant.

**Me too, actually. **

Oh, I know. Children of Klaine, this was a defining moment in your parents' history, because

**You sound like you're writing an essay.**

...I know. I was getting desperate.

**Tell you what. From now on, how about we discuss what we think **_**they**_** learnt?**

Brilliant. This is why you're my friend.

**Really? I thought it was my sparkling wit. **

That too. Well, Blaine learnt that romance isn't really that difficult, as long as you don't force it, or use autocue.

**Or quote David word for word when deciding how to ask someone out.**

And Kurt learnt that Blaine wants to get into bed with him, and have hot sex until the early morning.

**It amazes me that he didn't know that, when the whole school and **_**all**_** of New Directions could see it. Hell, probably half of **_**Ohio**_** could. It would've been healthier for all involved if they'd just admitted it straight away, right from when they'd first gone skipping down the halls of Dalton together.**

* * *

**Author's Note: Once again, I want to thank everyone for reading, reviewing, alerting, favouriting, **_**quoting**_** on the internet (someone sent me a link to a quote – it actually put a grin on my face for about two hours, the thought that people liked my work so much as to quote it in other places)...**

**Ooh, watching Klaine on my iPod. I love modern technology...**


	9. Vans And Trees

**Author's Note: Coursework **_**sucks**_**. It strikes me as ironic that I can whack out a 4000 word Klaine instalment in a few hours, but when it comes to my history coursework, it takes me two hours to write 1000 words.**

**So, if I don't update as regularly in the next few months, it's because I **_**need**_** to focus on school. I'll try to stick to about one a week. Usually around weekends, because then I can afford to stay up late writing and coursework editing. **

**Bleh.**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill by now – I don't own this. If I did, I wouldn't need to worry about not going to university next year.**

**

* * *

**

"Kurt**," **Blaine said on Friday morning. David was frantically trying to finish the World History assignment that I'd _warned_ him not to leave until the last minute, and I was idly flicking bits of paper at Kurt who, to his credit, was doing a good job of ignoring me. "What do you say about changing our date?"

"What kind of 'change'? If it involves you substituting me for someone else, I'd rather you didn't, thanks," Kurt said sardonically, but the worry in his eyes was incredibly plain – so plain, in fact, that _Blaine_, King of the Ignoramus, noticed, and hastily added,

"No! God, no. I mean, different place. Instead of Breadstix. Because Breadstix is great and everything, but I'd-"

"Blaine, you could tell me you wanted to go watch a _boxing match_, and I'd still say yes. I'm dating _you_, not the places." Kurt paused, and then shook his head. "Actually, no, I draw the line at a boxing match."

"Please, like I'd want to take you to boxing. I was thinking a picnic?" Blaine questioned, flushing, and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "You don't have to, but I know this amazing place, and I'll bring a cloth so we don't have to sit on the ground, and the weather's going to stay pretty warm, and-" Blaine was suddenly cut off by Kurt's lips on his own.

"Guys, seriously, stop PDA-ing while I'm trying to rush this assignment! Go make out somewhere else!" David said irritably, crossing out a large chunk of his last paragraph. I sighed happily, and put my hands behind my head, leaning back in my chair as I said,

"_So_ glad I did that two weeks ago. It took me _hours_." David laughed and slowly held up his middle finger. He started writing something on a scrap piece of paper, and threw it to me right under Kurt and Blaine's distracted noses.

**That really doesn't sound right. You make it sound like their **_**noses**_** were distracted.**

Look, you know what I mean, I know what I mean, and I'm sure Blaine and Kurt's kids aren't thick, so they'll know what I mean.

"We've got a problem," David had written in his almost illegible scrawl. I cocked my head to the side; he wrote something else on another sheet of paper and threw it at me.

"How're we all supposed to follow them now? 14 of us - we'd need three cars. Highly unsubtle."

"We'll call a meeting," I wrote back, and threw it to David. I then tore off a piece of paper from my notebook, rolled it up into a big ball and threw it at Kurt. He pulled away from Blaine – who was looking very flushed and dazed – and growled at me.

"God _damn_ it, Wesley, stop bombarding me with paper!"

* * *

"What do you expect us to do, boy? Produce invisibility cloaks? We're awesome, yes, but we're not wizards." Mercedes said down the phone to us half an hour later.

"Look, you managed to do something at the last minute last time. This time, we're giving you at least five hours notice!" I said desperately, pacing up and down our dorm room. Mercedes scoffed, and Rachel – did New Directions ever take single phone calls? – chimed in.

"You said the main problem was the awkwardness of having three cars... what if we just had one?"

"...You _can't _be serious, Rachel. We're not three foot tall – unless you happen to have a limo designed especially for these particular moments in life." I could practically hear her shrug on the other end of the line.

"Not yet. I will one day though."

"What about our bus for competitions? We're the only ones who use it, so no one would miss it," one of the boys – I could only really remember Finn and Sam – said, and Mercedes snorted.

"One problem there, Puckerman – a big ass bus is the _opposite_ of inconspicuous. It's like Berry on helium and alcohol during Broadway appreciation week."

"At least it'll fit all of us," David said reasonably. "Besides, they'll be more interested in each other, as opposed to the bus that's just happening to follow them."

"David, maybe you didn't hear me. It's a _bus_. It's _obvious_. They'd have to be continuously making out in order to be distracted enough not to see it, and while I know it's Kurt and Blaine, they do occasionally have to breathe."

"Fine, then, what about a van?" Somebody else said down the phone.

"And do you _own_ a van, Lauren? No, I thought not."

"Vans are pretty easy to highjack, though."

"Lalala, not listening, don't want to become an accessory to a felony!" There was arguing on the New Directions end for a good five minutes, before they finally concluded that a van was our only option – Finn's suggestion of a police helicopter was ignored by everyone bar David.

**It was a **_**brilliant**_** idea – imagine the shock on Kurt and Blaine's faces if we'd used the spotlight!**

Imagine the lengthy prison sentences we'd have all got if we'd stolen a police helicopter!

**I still think it'd have been more than worth it. **

Sure. You keep telling yourself that.

Later that afternoon, David and I snuck out to the parking lot, where we were manically waved over by the Mohawk guy, Puck. He gestured proudly to the van he was stood beside.

"This is it? This is your idea of a _van_? My _car_ is probably the same size as this!" I glowered at the pathetic excuse for a van, and Puck glared at me menacingly.

"Alright, rich boy, no need to rub it in my face that you've got enough money to wipe your ass with for the rest of your life. Besides, there're already eleven people in the back, so one of you could squeeze in easy." I raised an eyebrow.

"Why not two?"

"Because we figured we'd need one of you up front, because you'd be more likely to recognise Blaine's-"

"I call shotgun!" David shouted gleefully, practically launching himself at the passenger door, throwing it open and collapsing in the seat before I had had time to process what the _hell_ had just happened.

"Damn it, David!" I sighed, and made my way to the back door of the van. Yanking it open sulkily, I was greeted with eleven half-sympathetic, half-amused faces.

"You lost out, then," Mercedes said knowledgably; I nodded glumly. "Come on, we saved you a space." She paused to glare at Rachel. "Well, we _did_ save you a space, but Rachel hasn't stuck to the seating plan, so-"

"_Well_," Rachel said, uncrossing her ankles angrily.

**I didn't know you could **_**cross**_** them angrily, let alone **_**un**_**cross them.**

Apparently so.

"I was more than willing to put old grudges aside, and sit next to Santana, but every time I tried to go near her she'd kick me and scream in Spanish. So I tried to sit next to Finn, but Quinn turned into 'Scary Quinn', so then-"

"Long story short, she ended up next to me," Tina said, looking across Rachel to the other Asian. "I miss you, Mike!" Mike grinned and blew her a kiss.

"Okay, this is both adorable and faintly disgusting," Quinn said, raising an eyebrow whilst examining her nails. "Wes, I suggest you _make_ room, because otherwise when we crash, you'll die."

"Whoa, wait, '_when_ we crash'? You say that like it's a sure thing." I laughed nervously, but Mercedes just looked at me darkly and said mutinously,

"Have you ever played 'Grand Theft Auto'?" I nodded – who hadn't? "Puck drives like that." Panicking, I squashed myself between Mercedes and a forlorn looking Sam.

"That's them!" I heard David shriek from the front seat.

**The nice, spacious, uncramped front – ow, **_**Wes**_**, stop hitting me!**

"Go, go, go!" And we were off, swerving around so much that I wasn't entirely sure we were still in the Dalton parking lot.

"Mercedes," I muttered five minutes into the journey. By that time, Finn was already nursing a grazed arm, and Brittany was sporting a huge bruise on her forehead – although that was mostly her fault, because something had possessed her to stand up as we were veering around a corner like a bobsled.

"What?" I waited for us to career around a corner, with Sam practically ending up on the floor, before I continued.

"Why's everyone glaring like they want to-"

"Cut each other? Well, don't tell Rachel I told you – she's still convinced that you, David and Blaine are spies – but New Directions is currently having yet another big ass fight. Except for me. I'm refusing to take sides. And Mike and Tina, but that's because they're too preoccupied with their Asian Fusion to take any notice of the rest of us." I raised my eyebrows as Puck stamped on the breaks, causing us all to fall on top of each other.

"What's happened?" Mercedes took a deep breath.

"Rachel and Quinn are having one of their huge fights over Finn – don't see the attraction, myself ," she muttered under her breath defiantly. "So naturally Santana is using the opportunity to really get at Rachel, which means that Brittany is on Quinn's side, so naturally _Artie's_ on their side. Lauren doesn't like Santana, which means she feels obligated to side with Rachel, and Sam and Quinn have just broken up so he's got no choice but to join Team Rachel." She counted off the names on her fingers. "Oh, and Puck's on Team Whoever I Feel Like. Direct quote, there, because I asked Puck whose Team he was on – I was trying to decide who I was allowed to talk to without causing offense. It's all very confusing." Mercedes sighed sadly. "I miss my boy Kurt." She shook her head. "Where the hell _are_ we, anyway?"

"No clue," I replied, feeling slightly awkward amongst the silent New Directions. Suddenly, David yelled from the front of the van.

"Where'd they go? They were just there! Turn around, turn around!"

**What followed was a list of expletives too delicate for your young ears. Plus Kurt would probably kill me if he found out I'd sworn in front of his children.**

"Break, Puck, break, we're going to-!" There was a crash from the front of the van – nothing too heavy, but large enough to throw us all off our seats. There was silence in the van, and then, almost simultaneously, a groan.

"Uh... Are everyone's bodies still intact? No random limbs milling about anywhere?" Came the muffled sound of Finn's voice. There were grunts of assent.

"I guess. Santana, your boobs haven't-"

"I swear to God, Berry, if this comment involves the words 'popped', 'exploded', 'disintegrated' or anything similar, I will _kill_ you." Rachel hastily shut her mouth – I only knew this because her face was literally right on top of mine.

"Okay, seriously? Whoever's on top, can they get the hell off? As much as I love you guys most of the time, it's like being squashed by obese _bricks_," Mercedes grumbled from the bottom of the pile, somewhere near my legs. I wasn't entirely sure how she'd ended up so far away, and didn't get much time to think about it, because at that moment the van door opened; Puck and David peered in worriedly.

"You guys all alive?" David whimpered. "Wes? Please say you're not dead." I grunted, and David cheered happily.

"Please say I don't have to add 'murder' to my crime list, because I _really_ don't think juvie will let me off that one..." Puck said, leaning in and poking people, eliciting growls.

"We're _fine_," Lauren said grumpily – she'd managed to rearrange herself into a sitting position. "No thanks to your retarded driving. What were you trying to do, exactly?" Puck winced under her glare.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! We lost Blaine and Kurt, so I tried to turn, and I kind of hit a tree..." He grinned suavely. "You still love me, right?" Lauren rolled her eyes, but there was a distinct smirk there.

"You _lost_ them? Great. So, we've crashed a stolen van into a tree, we've lost Kurt and Blaine-"

"And we have no idea where we are," David supplied happily, causing Puck to slap his hand to his forehead.

"Dude, we didn't need to tell them that."

"We're _lost_?" Rachel shrieked, flinging herself up into the air to stand up, displacing Quinn, Tina and Sam, who had all ended up on top of her. "Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. What next – am I going to lose my voice? Is that it? We're going to be attacked by rabid wolves, and they will tragically tear out my larynx, so I'll have to learn to sing with my _feet_ or something, and then we'll _lose_ all of our future competitions..." She sighed. "And then I'll _never_ get to go to New York. And it's _all your fault_, Warblers!"

"Hang on just a second," I said, rolling over to prop myself up on my elbows. "How have you come to that conclusion? If anything, it's _your_ fault for not putting somebody who can drive behind the wheel!"

"No, it's Blaine's fault for changing their date!"

"It's obviously David's fault for giving crap directions!"

"I think its Kurt's fault for being such a pretty dolphin." I leaned my head forward to stare at a bemused looking Brittany.

"Don't mind Brittany, Wes. Alright, guys, we're obviously lost – I think the best thing we can do is get out of the van before it explodes or something," Artie said reasonably – somehow, his wheelchair had remained upright amidst all of the carnage.

"Sounds like a plan. Anyone who's stood up already, get out the van, so there's more room for the rest of us," Mercedes said, still trapped under Santana and Mike. Slowly, we all managed to make our way out of the van – again, I marvelled at how all of us had managed to fit in there – and looked at our surroundings.

"I, for one, think we should call my dads. They'll be very understanding, and-"

"No." Puck said firmly, extracting Rachel's phone from her hand. "No parents. How do we explain this to them? 'Can you come pick me up? Where am I, you ask? Well, not entirely sure, because our stolen van crashed into a tree while we were stalking our mutual gay best friends'." He rolled his eyes. "Because _that'll_ go down well. And no police, either." There was silence for a few minutes, and then Quinn sighed.

"We should start walking. The quicker we make it to the nearest town, the sooner we can get a bus or something back home." She glared at Rachel. "Berry, as much as I hate to admit it, you should lead, because out of all of us you've probably got the best sense of direction." Rachel smirked smugly, but before she could say anything, Santana hissed at her like a wild cat.

"Shut up. Don't say anything. It'd be so easy to dispose of your body here, that the only thing stopping me from killing you is I might not be able to bribe the Warbler boys into staying quiet. Trust me," she grinned wildly, her eyebrows low and furrowed. "The first _inkling_ I get that these two will be fine with your murder, you'd best start writing a will." Rachel whimpered, and scurried ahead to walk with Tina and Mike. Santana looked around at us.

"Oh, come on, you were all thinking it."

* * *

"Mercedes?" David said.

**We'd both mutually agreed that Mercedes was probably safer to walk with. She was less likely to kill, mutilate or rape us than the rest of New Directions, we felt.**

"Hm?" She was texting rapidly on her phone, but looked up briefly to look David in the eye.

"I'm worried. About Kurt." Mercedes snapped her phone shut and turned to the both of us with a feral glint in her eye.

"What? Why? What have you posh boys done to him? I swear, if you've maimed him in any way, I will not hesitate in cutting you, regardless of how much I like you both."

"Really, you like us?" She shrugged at my question, although the manic look in her eye remained.

"When you spend as much time as I do in... _uncivilised_ company, you appreciate sane people a lot more."

**It was the first time I'd ever been described as **_**sane**_**. Although, when compared to the McKinley guys, I honestly wasn't surprised that we seemed sane. I may carry itching powder with me at all times, but I don't go around stealing vans and threatening to murder people.**

"Now, stop avoiding the question. What's wrong with my boy?" David winced at the protective stare Mercedes had fixed on him.

"Well, he's been really quiet over the last couple of days. He's barely laughed, and he looks really worn out, and he hasn't played Call of Duty with us at _all_." Mercedes snorted.

"Whoa, wait, you got him to play Call of Duty? Finn's been trying for months, but he keeps refusing." She smiled sadly. "And it was the anniversary of his mom's death on Wednesday. Give him a few more days, he'll be fine." David and I gaped at Mercedes.

"Why didn't he even _mention_ it to us?"

"I guess..." She paused to think for a few minutes, and then carried on slowly. "He probably likes the fact that you treat him like a normal guy. In fact, scratch that, I _know_ he likes it, because he told me that almost straight after he'd transferred. At McKinley, nearly everyone referred to him as the 'gay kid', and those who didn't just thought of him as 'the guy whose mom died'. Maybe he just wants to hang on to 'Kurt' for as long he can. And he isn't one for sympathy."

"Wow. You really know everything about him, don't you?" Mercedes scoffed.

"Not _everything_. I probably know a little bit less than Blaine now, anyway. But as his best friend, I feel it's my job to know everything I can about him. I bet you two are the same, right?"

**Well, of course. I know things about Wes that no man should know about their best mate. **

"Sure." I shrugged, and then looked at Mercedes contemplatively. "You know a lot about Kurt, right?"

"...I thought we'd just established that."

"Right. So, when he gets this dreamy look on his face, is it because he's got gas or something? Because if it is, I'd rather know now, so I can start carrying spray around with me." She snorted.

"You have no idea how much I want to say it is right now, but it's not. That dreamy look is either because he's thinking about his latest clothes purchase, or he's subtly getting all hot and bothered about Blaine. If he starts going pink, you know there're some _really_ dodgy things happening in his imagination. And I haven't known Blaine long, but every time I have seen him, he gets a _very_ similar expression on his face, especially whenever Kurt bends over to pick something up."

This is one of the downsides of when your friends start dating – you hear things about their physical relationship that you could go the rest of your life not knowing.

Mercedes' phone suddenly went off; she looked around surreptitiously, and then answered it.

"Hello? Yes, I know. Look, it wasn't _my_... okay, yes, it was partly my idea. No, that part wasn't. I know. I'm sorry, but can you blame me? Huh? Really? Oh. Okay. See you later, white boy. Uh huh. Love you too." She hung up, and then looked at both of us out of the corner of her eyes. "That was Kurt. He saw us." Oh.

"Oh." David said, looking worried. Mercedes laughed.

"Don't worry, Blaine didn't see us, and Kurt said he wasn't going to tell him. But because he's not going to tell him, he can't come back to get us – and he reckons he knows where we are." She sighed, looking irritated. "I _know_ it was wrong to follow them on their date, but _really_, can you blame me? Of course you can't, you did the same thing. Well... What do we do now?"

"Carry on walking, I guess."

* * *

"Rachel, I'm tired! We've been walking around forever now, do you even know what you're doing?"

"Brittany, how can you be tired – you're sat on Artie's lap! And of course Rachel doesn't know where we're going, she's just leading us around this forest in the hopes we'll _starve_ to death, and then she can force some poor souls to join the Glee club under her leadership, where she'll attempt to take over the world with Broadway tunes and feather boas," said Quinn, carrying her shoes in her hand and picking her way through the forest debris delicately. "Finn, can you carry me? My feet are so sore..." She smiled smugly when Finn bounded over and swept her up in his arms.

"Wes, can you-"

"Don't even go there, David."

**Bastard. I'd carry you, if you asked.**

You wouldn't though, would you?

**I'm insulted at your implication. As your best friend, of course I'd... Okay, I probably wouldn't. But we'll never know now, will we?**

"Rachel, for God's sake, can we not just take a few minutes-"

"_EVERYBODY SHUT UP FOR A SECOND_!" Tina whisper shouted, cocking her head to the side. Everyone was instantly silenced, staring dumbly at Tina before she grinned wickedly. "Guess who I can hear?" We all made silent gestures to show our confusion. "_Kurt and Blaine_."

"No way! What're the odds that, after three hours of stumbling in this light forsaken forest, we managed to find them?"

"I, for one, am not surprised. With my superior tracking skills, I knew it was only a matter of time before-"

"Shut up, Rachel," Santana said monotonously.

"Okay, guys, here's what we should do. Tina, what direction are the voices coming from?" Tina listened hard, before pointing slightly left of where we had been heading. "Right, so-"

"Artie, we've talked about this. Kurt is _my best friend_, so I get to plan," Mercedes said angrily. Artie merely raised his eyebrows and said,

"And have you actually _got _a plan?" Mercedes just stood silently, her eyebrows furrowed, before smiling beatifically.

"My plan is to let you say your plan. So, really, I've planned this." Artie just sighed, and then carried on.

"If we all go charging that way, they're going to hear us. So, we need to split up into smaller groups, and head, separately, in that general direction. I'll go with Brittany, because I don't think she's up to walking at the moment. Quinn, you go with Finn and Santana. Sam, you can go with Rachel." Sam started muttering mutinously under his breath. "Lauren and Puck, obviously, and then Mike and Tina... and Mercedes, you alright to go with Wes and David?" She grinned at both of us.

"Of course."

"Alright, people, let's go make history."

"Wait, why is this historic?" Brittany said confusedly. I'll admit, for the first time since I'd met her, I thought she'd made a perfectly valid point.

"...I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to say. Spur of the moment thing."

"Oh." There was an awkward silence, and then everyone slowly walked off in their respective groups. Mercedes linked arms with David and me happily.

"I can see you two becoming my new best friends. After Kurt, of course. You've got this quality to the both of you that I really appreciate."

"Charm? Dashing good looks? Humour?" David said big-headedly, while I preened on her other side.

"No, money," she deadpanned in response. I glared at her in mock horror.

"Mercedes Jones, you never struck me as the material type." She shrugged in humility.

"What can I say? Somebody will have to pay for all my clothes if I happen to fail in my diva career." She suddenly stiffened, like a rabbit. "Shush, I think we're getting close – they're getting louder. I – oh, that's them, that's them, _hide_!" She pulled us behind a tree.

"Uh, Mercedes? This isn't Scooby Doo – we're not all going to disappear behind this rather narrow tree." She looked at the tree contemplatively.

"Good point. We're just going to have to climb it." We stared at her in disbelief.

"You're kidding me, right? You're having a laugh. Please say you're, I don't know, high or something." She shook her head determinedly, and started climbing the tree. When she'd climbed reasonably high, she perched on the branch and nodded us up. Sighing, I hauled myself up the tree, with David close behind. Less than thirty seconds after we'd stopped at various branches – that was the last thing we needed, for us all to share the same branch and then come crashing to the ground – Kurt and Blaine walked into the clearing, hand in hand.

"I told you I'd find it eventually," Blaine said smugly, laying out the blue and white chequered blanket. Kurt looked around, impressed – luckily, there were enough leaves on our tree to hide us from view.

"I stand corrected; you obviously know what you're doing." I looked at Blaine's picnic spot – it was like something out of a Disney film, with flowers, trees, and what _sounded_ like a stream in the distance. I wouldn't have been surprised if a deer had stumbled out of the trees, followed by other various woodland critters.

"Okay, I've brought sandwiches, crisps, fruit, drink..." Blaine looked up from the picnic basket with a charming grin. "And it's all as low fat as it comes. I've even brought salad and Greek yoghurt, just in case you get really worried about our fat intake." Kurt rolled his eyes.

**But we could all see the charmed smile on Kurt's face. Blaine could've asked Kurt **_**anything**_** at that moment – he was putty in Blaine's hands.**

"You make me sound like I'm obsessed with my diet. I just like eating healthily... But I appreciate the low fat crisps, I must say." He opened a packet, put one in his mouth and let out an involuntary moan. "Oh, God, I haven't had crisps in-" He was cut short by Blaine's frantic lips, as Blaine leaned over and ran his hands through Kurt's hair. I half expected Kurt to start complaining, but he was too preoccupied with pulling Blaine in closer.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Blaine let out a sheepish grin.

"You really need to stop doing that. If you do that at school, I promise you that I won't be able to control myself, regardless of whether or not we're in lessons." Kurt flushed pink, and Mercedes looked up to me and whispered,

"They're just so _cute_ together!" I grinned back – even as a guy, I could appreciate the chemistry and overall cuteness between the two of them.

"Well, I might just take you up on that," Kurt muttered, raising his eyebrows in a challenging way.

"Kurt... there was actually a reason I asked you to come here, instead of somewhere like Breadstix..." Blaine took in a deep, nervous breath. Kurt looked down at his lap and whispered,

"Oh... Is it something bad?" Blaine practically scampered closer to Kurt, knelt down in front of him, took hold of one of his hands and lifted his chin to make him look up.

"Kurt, please get it into your head – I'm _not_ going anywhere. The only reason I'll ever leave you is if you ask me to – and I'd rather you didn't do that." He smiled tremulously, and Kurt looked at him in wonder.

"Are you kidding? Why would I ask you to do that? I lo- You mean the world to me, Blaine." Blaine looked at Kurt carefully, but Kurt was studiously avoiding his gaze. Suddenly, Blaine smiled and, I won't lie to you, children of Klaine, it was the most adorable expression I had ever seen on his face.

"Kurt Hummel, you know I love you, right?" Kurt's eyes widened vastly, and he grinned toothily.

"_Really_?"

"Yeah. I wasn't going to say anything, because we haven't been dating long, and I thought you might think it was too soon, but... I've _never_ felt this way about anyone before."

I swear to God, I was convinced you were going to fall out of the tree, in typical David McCockblocker fashion.

**You overestimate my abilities. Although I guess I had been subconsciously training others in my ways.**

"_Dolphins_!" Brittany suddenly came charging into the clearing, and threw herself onto Kurt's lap, who looked like he wanted to kill her.

"Brittany, what're you doing? I told you to stay in the bushes!" Artie wheeled himself after Brittany, shooting an apologetic glance at Kurt and Blaine.

"But I wanted to say hello!" Brittany replied simply, smiling at Kurt. He smiled back painfully, before turning to Blaine.

"Well, the peace was nice while it lasted, huh?"

"Samuel, you're completely mistaken! Explain to me how you can think football is a more lucrative career than show business – it's just a lot of sweaty boys running around!" Rachel came storming into the clearing, Sam close behind. He shouted back,

"Oh yeah? Well, show business is just a load of pompous boys in tights 'running around'!" Rachel gasped, spun on her heel and poked Sam in the chest – I heard Mercedes snigger quietly below me.

"Take that back!" He just smirked at her smugly.

"Quinn, I don't understand how you managed to _lose_ Santana!" Finn said, sounding less angry than confused. Quinn shrugged, looked up at Finn and said sultrily,

"I guess I just wanted some alone time with you..." She suddenly looked around at the curious audience she had. "God _damn_ it, do you lot never go away?" Lauren suddenly crashed through some tree branches, an awed Puck in her wake.

"Babe, that was _hot_. Have I ever mentioned how bad ass you are?" Lauren shrugged.

"A few times. You can tell me more later, when we're not surrounded by various members of the Glee club." She gestured to the people in the clearing – Kurt was looking more and more irate as people stumbled into the clearing – and Puck swore. As he was letting out a string of expletives longer than Rachel herself, Mike came running in, dragging a giggling Tina behind him – both of them had red, swollen lips.

"Did you two even _try_ to look for Kurt and Blaine?" Artie said irately. Tina just shrugged knowingly. Suddenly, a _very_ pissed off Santana trampled in, screaming in Spanish – she stopped, glared at Quinn, and then flew at her, shrieking.

"_OKAY, people_!" Kurt shouted, standing up. He looked flushed, and angrier than I'd ever seen him. "I don't _mind_ if you feel you have to stalk me on dates – I understand that it's just your strange way of showing you love me – but do you really all have to intrude while we were having a moment?" Everyone below suddenly looked guilty.

"Oh, you were having a moment? We'll just... we'll just go then. Pretend we weren't even here." In less than a minute, the clearing was empty, bar Kurt and Blaine. Blaine looked around, confused.

"Where were David and Wes? It's not like them to miss a spying opportunity." Kurt sighed.

**And pointed directly at our tree.**

"They're up there, with Mercedes." Blaine squinted at the tree, and then let out an angry squeak.

"What the _hell_ are you three doing up there?" Mercedes sighed, and dropped down gracefully from her branch, landing neatly on her feet.

"What do you think we're doing? We _were_ spying, but then Tweedle Retard jumped out, and all hell broke loose." She sighed dramatically. "Guys, you might as well come down, they know we're here." I dropped down, landing in a perfectly respectable manner, and David soon followed, collapsing in a heap on a pile of leaves.

"I'm fine guys, seriously, don't feel you have to come rushing to my aid or anything." We just ignored David,

**Again, **_**bastard**_**.**

And Mercedes said to Kurt,

"How'd you know we were there, anyway?" Kurt merely smiled knowingly.

"Don't forget, Mercedes, you're my best friend – I have an amazing ability to track you across the world." He paused, and then laughed at the expressions on our faces. "Or, you know, I saw you all scrambling up the tree earlier."

* * *

**Okay, I'll admit it, we need to stop underestimating Kurt's observational skills. Blaine might be the most oblivious guy on the planet, but Kurt is like some... Observing... Person? Okay, I've got nothing. **

No. We can tell.

**Well, we found out your parents love each other, and were practically ready to skip off into the sunset together. We also found out they don't particularly mind if we stalk them – so if, God forbid, we don't stay in touch, and you happen to see two faces staring in through your living room window, children, don't worry, it's most probably us. **

Although they got their revenge at prom.

**This is true. Although, let's be honest, neither of us have ever gone as far as to use **_**video footage**_** in our revenge... **_**Genius**_** idea. Genius.**

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm feeling the love, guys. If it wasn't socially unacceptable, I'd track you all down and give you cookies. I'd even bake the cookies myself, instead of using make from the packet cookies, like I normally do. But stalking is probably illegal, and I could do without restraining orders, so just know that I _do_ love you. Lots.**


	10. The Prom Spectacle

**Author's Note: I'm very, very sorry this took so long to get out – The past week's been so busy, what with the school musical, work, interviews... I'm **_**exhausted**_**.**

**But it's all done now, so... Here you go!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you know here. Not that I need to, because it's probably pretty stressful XD**

* * *

There was a distinct odour in the air that morning – nervous testosterone and Girl. There were _girls_ on campus.

"Look at the legs on _that_ one!" I said excitedly, pointing to a blonde with legs as long as Blaine himself. Wes looked over to where I was pointing,

**You were pointing quite obnoxiously, I should add.**

And grunted noncommittally.

"She's alright. I prefer the redhead. Besides," he looked at me sharply. "All the girls here at the moment are _Girlfriends_ – out of bounds. The single ones are coming down later. Speaking of girlfriends, where's yours?" I squirmed under his all-knowing smirk.

"I told her that prom was Guy Time. Then she found out from one of her friends that it _was_ a date thing, so she screamed at me in the middle of Starbucks. I think we've broken up, but I'm not entirely sure – so, it looks like it's just the four of us." Wes snorted derisively.

"Are you really that naive?" I shrugged. "Do you honestly see Blaine wanting us around him and Kurt at _prom_? I'm surprised he hasn't hired armed bodyguards to escort them round for the night." This was true. After the Great McKinley Exposure Fiasco, Blaine had been avoiding us like the plague, and had literally taken to dragging Kurt off in the opposite direction if he spotted us in the hallways.

"Alright, fine, I guess it'll just be us two." Wes glared at me.

"What makes you think I haven't got a date?" I scoffed in response, and replied,

"Come on, dude, you _never_ have dates. You have, I don't know, girlphobia."

"The word's 'Gynophobia', and forgive me if I don't like going on random dates. Remember your last 'It's Just A Date'? It was eleven months ago. April. And how did that end up for you?"

"Point taken. It's kind of pathetic that neither of us have dates. We should see if any of the McKinley girls' will-"

"I've already asked. Rachel's already got plans with her dads, Quinn's involved in a love heptagon or something, Brittany and Tina both have boyfriends, Puck told me he'd go all 'Deathstar' on me if I so much as looked at Lauren, I'm not desperate enough to ask Santana, and Kurt set Mercedes up with Thad, so she's already coming," Wes listed, counting off each girl on his fingers.

"Oh. You asked all of them without even _consulting_ me?"

"Forgive me if I thought you'd be going with April. You know. Your girlfriend."

"What's this about David's girlfriend from hell?" Kurt asked, hand in hand with Blaine, who was twitching at being in such close proximity with us. However, he managed to put past events behind him briefly for a second to intercede on my behalf.

"Kurt, you haven't even _met_ her."

"I've seen pictures," Kurt replied, making use of his snobbiest grimace. "And trust me, anyone who wears plaid skirts and jumpers that look like they've been knitted by blind old people are either insane, the devil incarnate, or Rachel Berry. Who is just a more extreme version of the former two."

"David and her have had an argument, so now he has to go stag to prom," Wes said.

"Best way, in my opinion," I added hastily, to try and salvage my reputation.

**What reputation? Your reputation of being a bit of a twat?**

Ha-ha. You're so very funny.

"April's great, don't get me wrong, but it'll be nice to check out girls without having to carry a newspaper with eyeholes everywhere."

**This is actually a true story – I've seen the newspaper. He keeps it in a box labelled 'Bird Watching Kit', along with all the numbers of girls he's ever got. Last time I check it tallied at about four.**

Five, now. Mercedes' number.

**Oh, please, that doesn't count, she's a friend.**

She's a _girl_, though.

**...Can't argue with that logic.**

"So, you _haven't_ invited April?" Kurt asked, almost incredulously. "But she's your _girlfriend_."

"She's also a pain in the ass," Wes said bluntly.

"Kurt, no normal teenagers have relationships like yours and Blaine's – where you open doors for each other, have debates about 'things', and _cuddle_ at night. That's what you do when you're, like, _fifty_."

"You're just jealous," Blaine said smugly, wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist. I _was_ jealous, I'll readily admit.

_**Everyone**_** was jealous of those two. Not of either of them specifically,**

I don't know, Trent always seemed a bit off after they got together.

**Really? I never noticed. But people always seemed to be jealous of the fact that the pair of them were best friends as well as dating, and didn't have to deal with the stress of 'What does this text **_**mean**_**?' They just texted each other with 'Seriously, Blaine, what the hell is 'wub u'? Grammar is our friend.'**

"So, let me just clarify – you're _not_ taking April to prom?" Kurt asked again with a confused grimace on his face.

"No, I'm definitely not. Why, do you want to go with her?"

"No. Boobs are a bit of a turn-off for me, you know?"Blaine glared pointedly at Kurt, and Kurt rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Come on, Blaine, you know full well that I'm not really considering taking anyone other than you to prom." They both grinned sappily at each other; Wes coughed.

"Hi, guys; we're still here." Blaine muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like he was telling us to 'go away, then', but in much ruder terms. Kurt shook his head, looking almost dazed, and then started to pull Blaine away by the hand.

"Come on, Blaine, let's go talk prom," he said excitedly. I half expected Blaine to turn back and grimace at us, like he used to do with every other boyfriend he'd ever had, but he was too busy skipping in Klaine world to remember us two.

* * *

"_WESLEY_! _DAAAAAVID_!" There is nothing more utterly terrifying than hearing your hobbit-like best friend run down the hall, screaming your name at the top of your lungs like a madman. Wes and I scrambled to our door and, true to form, Blaine was running towards our room, and,

"Oh, dear _God_, Blaine, what the hell have you done to your hair?" Usually, Blaine attacks his hair with gel, to get it to actually _resemble_ hair, as opposed to a badly permed wig. On the night of prom, however, when it is almost imperative that you look your best, Blaine had somehow managed to make it look worse than any hairstyle ever concocted.

"I tried to straighten it, because I've run out of gel, but it made it look stupid, so then I thought I'd curl it, but I only had Jeff's straighteners, but I remember Mercedes once telling me that straighteners can be used to curl hair, so I thought it'd be okay, but it just made my hair do _this_, and I don't know what to do!"

**David physically cannot type what happened to Blaine's hair, because he's fallen off his chair laughing at the memory of it. So, it falls to me to describe it.**

**He had somehow managed to straighten it **_**up**_**. It resembled a halo of hair. What made it even worse was that he had actually succeeded in curling a few strands, but they'd sort of clung to his head, and... Well, the hair was literally Defying Gravity. (...Ask your Dad. Although, let's be honest, any children of Kurt's are going to be able to recite 'Wicked' before they can write their own names.**

...okay. Okay. I'm alive. Just about. Oh, I'd forgotten how idiotic his hair looked that night...

"Stop laughing!" Blaine shrieked at two innocent passers-by, who hadn't even been looking Blaine's way. Blaine clasped one hand to his head protectively, and slammed the door shut with the other. He then turned desperately to us – I struggled to hide a snigger. "What the hell do I do with this? Neither of you have any gel, do you?"

"Blaine," I said seriously. "Of course I have gel. Because I use gel all the time."

"On his eyebrows," Wes added wisely, nodding his head.

"And my eyelashes."

"And his-"

"Okay, let's not let this go any further than necessary, thank you! Wes, you wouldn't happen-"

"No, Blaine. Why don't you ask Kurt, the guy who actually styles his hair properly, as opposed to the guy who just brushes it, and the one with the shaved head?" Blaine widened his eyes manically, shaking his head as he said,

"Are you _kidding_? I can't let Kurt see me like this! I look like a twit! He'd take one look at me and run screaming back to McKinley, and tell all his friends that he can't date me any more, because I have stupid hair!"

I take back what I said earlier, about how Kurt and Blaine had an enviable relationship. I honestly don't envy Kurt for having to put up with Blaine's insanity.

"Blaine, Kurt is not going to break up with you because of your hair. True, he might laugh at you – but we're your best friends, and _we're_ laughing at you," I said reasonably – although the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that I had to wipe away tears of laughter. Blaine, however, did not look appeased, and instead ran to our mirror; he let out a squeak of shock at his reflection.

"...I can _never_ leave this room again. Unless I'm wearing a paper bag on my head." Wes sighed in exasperation, picked up his phone, and hit a speed dial.

"Mercedes? Yeah. I know you're getting ready, but this is kind of an emergency... Yes, it's Blaine. Code Green... I know. I _know_. Imagine the prom pictures – imagine the second hand embarrassment! Ten minutes? _One_? How the hell – oh. That'd make sense. Yeah. I'll come over to distract him. Yeah. Will do. See you on the crossover. Uh huh. Yes, love you too. Okay... 'Cedes, this is kind of... Huh, she hung up on me." Wes looked at both of us – we were both giving him identical weirded out faces. "What? It pays to have a female friend. Because of her, Blaine isn't going to have stupid hair. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go distract Kurt with something shiny and designer."

* * *

"Alright, white boy, what's the – oh, my _eyes_! Blaine, what did you... Never mind, I'm not sure I want to know. Come here, I've got gel," Mercedes held out a tray, which was laden with various hair products – things like 'frizz serum' and 'volume-booster'. She caught me staring in awe and winked. "Half of this is Kurt's. Now, come on, Blaine, let's get you looking pretty for prom." Practically pushing Blaine into a chair, she started by spraying a _lot_ of stuff into his hair, covering his eyes with her hand. "So, David, found a date for prom yet?" There was a glint in her eye that I chose to ignore – spending time around my friends does that to a person.

"Nope – hoping that there'll be some single girls at prom who'll take pity on me. Looking forward to your date with Thad?" Mercedes shrugged, rubbing her fingers roughly in Blaine's hair.

"I don't know – haven't met him yet. I've been with Kurt all day, getting ready. Should be fun, though. Lean forward, Blaine." He complied, and she started working what looked like whipped cream through his hair.

**I'm going to take a wild guess and say it was mousse.**

I didn't actually think it was _whipped cream_, you know.

"What _is_ Kurt doing, anyway?" Mercedes grinned wickedly.

"I can't say – I've been sworn to secrecy. He has 'big plans', though, so prom should be... interesting, to say the least. Stop fidgeting." She slapped Blaine on the shoulder – he'd been twitching his head, to try to flick his hair out of the awkward position it was in. "Don't sulk, Anderson – it's not my fault you decided to play hairdresser on prom day." She ran her fingers through his hair again, gave it an odd flick – and lo and behold, it somehow managed to morph into a more normal version of how it ordinarily looked – it looked _shiny_, as opposed to laden with buckets-o-grease.

"Wow... Dude, it looks _healthy_," I said, looking at it in a similarly to how a child looks at an animal in a zoo – awe and fear.

"Thanks. I think. It feels weird, like there's nothing up there." His eyes widened comically. "You haven't _shaved_ it, have you?"

"Yes, Blaine," Mercedes said seriously, raising an eyebrow at me. "I've shaved it all off, so you're as bald as a baby. Of course I haven't shaved it, dumb ass. Just... Go get your tux on or something, and thank me later, when Kurt is staring at you like I stare at my tots."

* * *

"Wes, I feel stupid," I said later, throwing myself into a seat. Wes sighed.

"Tell me about it. _Everyone_ has dates. It's pathetic. Why couldn't New Directions have let us at least _borrow_ one of their girls? It's not like I was going to propose marriage or anything..." He sighed again. "You know, I'm seriously just considering heading back to the dorm... Whoa, wait, what's happening on the stage?" He looked over, as the curtains started to lower. We stared at them for a few minutes, and then I sighed – our prom table was deemed as the 'sighing loser table' by Nick at one point.

"Probably something interesting that doesn't involve us. This is depressing me, seriously. Even the _music_ is upsetting me. I'm tempted to go back to my room and call my mom for a moan."

"Gentleman? Ladies? If I could have your attention for just a few minutes?" We looked up curiously, to see Kurt speaking in a microphone on stage, with Blaine stood just behind him. When he saw that he had silence, he nodded.

"As most of you are aware by now, on that table over there are David and Wes, looking lonely and bored." He pointed at our table, causing hundreds of heads to turn our way.

**I caught Mercedes and Thad smirking at us the next table over. I don't like smug Thad.**

"A few weeks ago, Blaine and I were on a date, when David, Wes and my old Glee club decided it would be... _prudent_ to follow us. We really _appreciate_ this consideration, and thought we'd repay the favour." He grinned at us evilly, narrowing his eyes in an utterly terrifying fashion. He gestured to the curtain. "So, Blaine and I put our heads together, and decided that the best thing we could do for them was to provide them with dates to prom, because we care about them _so_ much. Drum roll, please?" I'm not entirely sure where it came from, but a drum roll followed his words. Blaine, grinning in a sickeningly smug fashion, went over to the curtain cord. "Ladies, Gentleman, David and Wes, we would like to present you with your dates for this evening – April Hansen and Santana Lopez!"

**I nearly cried. This was cruel. **

_You_ nearly cried? At least your date wasn't out for your blood!

**No, my date was out for unfavourable bedroom activities!**

...'Unfavourable bedroom activities'? Who are you, Kurt? Just say sex.

**Fine, my date was out to rape me!**

"David, Wes, we hope this shows our appreciation of your stalking!" Kurt grinned haughtily as the curtain rose, revealing April in a huge pink ball gown – very similar to one of the china figurines my mom owns and keeps on the mantelpiece – and a frightening scowl on her face.

**At least April's dress didn't look like something a dominatrix would wear! I swear to God, and will continue to do so until death, that Santana's dress was made of leather. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if she'd produced a whip and handcuffs at any point during the night.**

"David. Dance with me." April said, pulling me up from my seat.

"Come on, Wes, come show me a good time," Santana purred – yes, _purred_. I distinctly heard Wes whimper.

Eventually, I managed to make my escape from April's clutches – who had gotten it into her head that, because Kurt had invited her to prom, I was obviously trying to make an elaborate apology. As I was tiptoeing back to my room, a hand shot out from one of the janitor's closets. I made to shriek, but there was frantic shushing.

"Shut the hell up, man, I don't want Santana finding me!" I squinted in the darkness, but I was pretty sure who it was.

"Wes?" He scoffed.

"No, it's Kurt. Of course it's me, retard!" He flicked on the light, and I had to mask a snicker – he was without his jacket, his shirt was untucked and his tie was loose. "Don't say a word. I'm mentally scarred. I'd forgotten how... octopus-like she could get." He shuddered, and then put a finger to his lips.

"So, what was it you wanted to-" There was a thump of something hitting the door, and I slapped my hand to my mouth to avoid the laugh spilling out. When I was sure I was safe, I mouthed to David,

"Is that Kurt and Blaine?" He nodded.

"Kurt, while I sincerely enjoy making out with you in deserted hallways, we could've done this downstairs. You said you wanted to say something?" Blaine's voice came through the doorway, and a shaky breath followed – I assumed it came from Kurt.

"Blaine, these past months with you have been _great_-"

"Oh my god, there's a 'but' coming, isn't there? I swear, Kurt, I didn't mean to do whatever I've done, and I know I don't deserve-" He was cut off suddenly for a few minutes, and then Kurt carried on.

"Have you been paying attention at _all_? There's no 'but' coming, Blaine Anderson. I was _going_ to say that these past months have been great, and I wanted to tell you that I love you, too. I was just waiting for the right moment to say it." Wes breathed a sigh of relief, and a large grin split my face seemingly in half.

"..._Really_? Kurt, that's... Wow, I'm... I _love_ you, you know." Kurt giggled, and then whispered,

"You know, nobody's going to come looking for us for _ages_..." There was sniggering - silence – and then the door opened.

**Seriously, what are the odds that they chose **_**that**_** closet to have an epic Klaine make-out session in? It's like some divine being **_**hates**_** us.**

The two of them stood in the doorway kissing for what seemed like ages whilst Wes and I looked anywhere other than at them. Eventually, they came up for air – and looked directly at us.

"AH! David! Wes! What the hell are you doing in there? Are you stalking us _again_? Did you learn nothing from your dates?" Blaine said heatedly – the effect was ruined by Kurt in the background hastily tucking in his shirt and trying to straighten his hair.

"In all fairness to us, we _were_ here first – it's hardly our fault that you snuck away from prom to get it on in this particular closet," Wes said logically, leaning against the closet wall and crossing his arms. I nodded emphatically.

"Look, let's just pretend this never happened, Wes and I will go on our merry little way, and you two can mate like rabbits in here or something. Deal?" I expected Blaine or Kurt to flare up at the rabbit reference, but they both just nodded quickly.

"Deal. Now get the hell out."

* * *

"It's the moment you've all been waiting for. The announcements of the Prom Royalty!" There was enthusiastic clapping from everyone in the hall – apart from our small table. I was trying to shrink in my seat, April was glaring at me, Wes was staring into space awkwardly, and Santana was sat on his lap, nibbling on his ear.

"First off, our Prom Prince and Princess goes to..." A spotlight I didn't even know we owned whizzed around the hall, and eventually came to a stop on-

"Wes and Santana!" There was a stunned silence as the spotlight stopped on Santana and Wes. Santana looked up from Wes's ear in shock, and then she let out a loud whoop of excitement, took Wes by the hand, and dragged him up to the stage. When everyone saw what exactly Santana looked like, there was rambunctious applause.

"First of all, I want to say 'Screw you, Quinn, I beat you to Prom Royalty!' Secondly, I want to thank Wes for helping me on my way to being your princess. Thirdly, I want to say that my number is-"

"Alright, _thank you_, Santana," Thad said, pushing Wes and Santana off the stage after they'd received their crowns from Mercedes. "And, as you've all probably anticipated, we've got _two_ Prom Kings. Give it up for Kurt and Blaine!" There was fervent cheering that went on... and on... and on.

**Ten minutes, the clapping went on.**

Eventually, Jeff took it upon himself to shout over the din.

"You know, I'm thinking they're in a closet somewhere." There were a few childish sniggers at the irony of that statement,

**David included.**

"Who's going to go get them, then? We can't really finish the prom until we've had the royalty dance, you know..." There was manic shouting from everyone refusing to go, until Wes shouted loudly,

"Alright! I'll go! I'll risk my _sanity_ and _mental wellbeing_ to go get them. If I don't return in ten minutes, I've probably fainted at whatever they're doing."

True to his word, Wes returned in under ten minutes. Wes, do you want to say anything about your experiences?

**No.**

But I'm sure they

**No. They don't. They really, **_**really**_** don't.**

Oh. Okay. Well, he returned, with a scarlet faced Klaine in tow; he ushered them up to the stage, where they accepted their crowns sheepishly.

**And then there was dancing and love and Santana tried to get me into bed with her eight times.**

Well, we all learnt something very important. We really need to stop meddling in each other's lives.

**But we don't, really, do we? **

Just think – if we had stopped meddling in each other's lives, would Rachel's birthday party have happened the way it did?

**No. But that's because we did something questionably illegal. And I'm not entirely sure Kurt will ever forgive us.**

I'm sure he will.

* * *

**Author's Note: My history coursework's done, it's nearly the holidays... so the chapters **_**should**_** be coming through reasonably quickly. Good times...**


	11. Burgundy Punch

**Author's Note: I've started my new job, guys XD There's a television right in front of the till, and if it so happens to be quiet while Glee's repeated... Well, then I get paid to watch Glee, don't I? Although, I must admit, I'm kind of apprehensive for the 'Original Songs' episode, because I know there'll be flailing, and my work colleagues aren't yet aware of my fangirlyness. **

**Once again, (because I wouldn't really like to be sued...) I don't own anything here. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Letters for you, guys. And have you two taken to receiving joint mail now?" You'd be justified in assuming that this was aimed at Kurt and Blaine – sadly, Jeff was talking to David and me.

"Not to my knowledge," I replied, examining the envelope – sure enough, 'David and Wes Warbler' was written in heavily cursive handwriting. Kurt grinned.

"I think I know what these are. Guys, prepare to witness a Rachel Berry Party." I looked at Kurt's and Blaine's (separate) envelopes, and then back to ours.

"Why's ours so much thicker?" Kurt shrugged, while slitting his envelope open.

"They got a bit carried away while writing it, but I didn't think they'd include their written conversation too." He turned his attention to his letter, while I tore ours open. I started to read, and David leant over my shoulder to follow along.

'Dear David and Wes Warblers,' it began.

'You are cordially invited to Rachel Berry's birthday party, which will take place at my house. There will be light refreshments and entertainment. Réspondez s'il vous plaîte.' Below this, in writing I could identify as Kurt's:

'You've spelt 'plaît' wrong, dear.'

'Look, Kurt Hummel, I'm still convinced that your friends are spies, sent to ruin my' "my" was heavily crossed out, and replaced with 'our chances at fame, and the only reason I'm inviting them is because Santana refuses to come unless Wes is there. If Santana doesn't come, no one will.'

'Bring booze guys ;)'

'No, Noah, they are _not _allowed to bring alcohol. No alcohol, Warblers.'

'And this is why no one likes you.'

'Well, they obviously do, otherwise they wouldn't be expressing their wishes to come to my party, regardless of the presence of one Santana Lopez.'

'Berry, people are only coming to your party to get you trashed.'

"Kurt," I said slowly, flicking through the invitation. "There's like, _eight_ pages in here." He looked over and made a grunt of assent. "Why... Are we expected to _read_ all of this?" He shook his head.

"Most of that," he pointed to the invitational essay that David was attempting to plough through. "Will be arguing. I left them to it at about page four..." He extracted a page from the leaflet and scanned it. "Ah, here we go – 'Well, as hilarious as this has been, I've got to go.' ...And you don't need to read the rest," he said quickly, attempting to hide the page from view.

**However, I used my super-ninja speed, and swiped the page back for our own reading amusement... What, no sarcastic comment?**

No, actually – trying to cut back. Sarcasm is apparently bad for your appendix.

"Bless you, Kurt, this is _adorable_," David said, handing me the sheet and starting on page five. "Positively romantic poetry, right there." Underneath Kurt's sign off, it seemed all of New Directions had, once again, jumped in to have their say-

'_WANKY_!'

'I, for one, have to agree with Santana here.'

'Hell yeah, my boy's finally gonna get some!'

'Whoa, dude, that's my little brother you're talking about!'

'Finn, Kurt is neither younger than you or your brother.'

'Umm, how do we know Kurt's getting some? He could be, I don't know, going to meet his dad or something..."

'Urgh, MENTAL IMAGES!'

'Moving _on_ from incest... Sam, its obvious Kurt is going to make gay babies; did you see the colour of his face?'

'Kurt's going to have a _baby_ dolphin? Can I be godmother?'

'No, Britt. What do you think they're doing right _now_?'

'I highly doubt that Kurt's even'

'Right now? Some really hot making out. Wonder if they'll make it a threesome...'

'SANTANA!'

'What? That Blaine kid is hot, and you can't deny that Hummel will probably be a total _animal_ in bed.'

'This is my _step-brother_ – I don't want to be discussing his sex life!'

'His _rambunctious_ sex life...'

'WANKY!'

And so it carried on, in this cyclical fashion, until eventually it ended with-

'Look, Warblers, just come to the god damn party. You don't even have to respond, we're just assuming that you're coming.'

I looked up at Kurt curiously; he flushed and pointed at me.

"If you value your lives," he flicked his pointed finger between me and David, who was crying with laughter.

**It was a combination of the invitation and the confused and irritated look on Blaine's face at being excluded.**

"You won't say anything. To anyone. Ever."

"Not even the part with the strawberries and chocolate sauce on your-" I said, stopping to laugh at Blaine. His face had flushed a hilarious shade of magenta, and I could practically _see_ the scenarios playing out in his head.

"Especially the part – wait, there was nothing about strawberries and chocolate sauce!" David snorted with laughter, and Kurt threw his spoon at him.

"_Idiot_. Remind me to kill you both later."

* * *

"Let's play spin-"

"_No_, Rachel. That's just your excuse to make out with everyone. I'll tell you how the partners are going down this evening – Quinn will probably drunk-rape Finn, Artie and Britt will find a corner, Mike and Tina will find some other corner, Santana will try to get in various threesomes, and will then settle for Sam-"

"Hey!" Sam interjected angrily, but Puck just ignored him and carried on.

"Mercedes will get drunk and giggly with the Warblers-"

"Well, _that's _a pathetic image of me, thanks."

"There's nothing pathetic about us, Mercedes Jones!"

"Lauren and myself will find a cupboard or a bedroom to go make some bedroom magic happen, Kurt and Blaine will look on like bemused parents, and you, Rachel," Puck looked deeply at Rachel, almost as if he was searching her soul.

**What, are we writing a romance novel for horny pre-teens now?**

"You will desperately try to get someone to sing karaoke with you, in the hopes of showing off your mad skills. Again" Rachel opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut and folded her arms sulkily. It was quiet for a few seconds, and then David piped up,

"What about Spin-The-Bottle-Truth-Or-Dare-Shots?" The other guys all cheered happily, and Puck slapped David on the back.

"I knew there was a reason we told Rachel to invite you. Rachel, go get the alcohol."

"Okay, Noah!" Rachel said cheerfully, practically skipping out of the room. I raised an eyebrow at Mercedes, who just shrugged.

"We think she's high on her perceptions of her own talent. She hasn't had anything to drink – oh _hell no_, Berry, you've _got_ to be kidding me." Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"What? You don't like red wine?" She held up the bottle of fairly expensive looking wine, and there was a collective groan.

"Rachel, you promised you'd get _alcohol_. That's not alcohol - that's juice for old people. We can't possibly get drunk on that. Hell, we probably can't even all get a _drink_ from that – there's sixteen of us. How do you honestly expect to divide one bottle up between all of us?" Rachel just smiled knowledgably in response.

"I'm not. That's why I bought another bottle, but I'm keeping that upstairs – no sense in opening a bottle if there's no need for it!" There was silence for a few seconds, and then,

"_I'M GOING TO _KILL_ HER!_" Santana shrieked, lunging off Sam's lap like a girl possessed.

**Fortunately, Sam embraced his innate ninja and grabbed hold of her arms before she had the time to commit murder. We may have to adopt him as, I don't know, our pet or something.**

Eventually, after everyone had established that Rachel's blood would be very difficult to remove from the carpets, and none of us was willing to bury her body, Puck held up a hand.

"Right, we need to sort out the punch. Rachel, go get the other bottle of wine; I'll pour it in, and hope the chemicals will react or something to create vodka substitute." He looked at David and me cautiously. "Warblers, come help me... sort it out." Blaine and Kurt shot us odd looks from where they were practically spooning on the floor, but we chose to ignore them, and made our way to where Puck was hovering over the punch. He looked around suspiciously.

"Have you got it?" He muttered out of the corner of his mouth. I nodded subtly, while David pulled out a bottle from his... Wait, where _did _you pull that bottle from?

**A magician never reveals his secrets.**

Fine.

"Good," Puck sighed in relief. "Because shots of wine aren't _shots_, dude. They're just... well, small glasses of wine. Pour it in."

"What, _all_ of it? This is pretty strong stuff," David said dubiously, peering at the label. "It's a really high alcohol percentage, it's like-"

"Yes, _all of it_." Puck grabbed the bottle, opened it, and sniffed the contents like a wine connoisseur. "You don't understand – you _need_ alcohol to make it through a Berry Party. Otherwise it's just being in a confined space with Rachel Berry for hours on end, playing Charades and talking about your _feelings_." He shuddered like a man with too much experience for his liking, and poured the alcohol into the punch. Using the neck of the bottle to stir it in, he also poured in the wine, making the originally green punch turn a very strange shade of brown.

**Do you know what it reminded me of?**

If it begins with a 'd' and ends in 'iarrhoea', then you need your brain sorted out.

**I was actually going to say 'chocolate', but yes, now that you mention it, it did look like diarrhoea.**

...That's... no, you know what, I won't even respond. I just hope this shows Kurt and Blaine's children that you're a _freak_.

"Puckerman, I don't see why you need to put _two_ bottles of wine in the punch, I'm sure one would have sufficed..." Rachel, wine in hand, paused, and stared at the punch. Her eye started to twitch, and then she shrieked,

"Noah Puckerman, what did you do to my _PUNCH_? That punch, mister, was the perfect blend of limeade and lemonade, with just a hint of lime sherbet and rum, and you've turned it _BURGANDY_!"

"I've also turned it into _alcohol_, Berry, so now your party won't suck ass. You can thank me later, when you go up slightly in the cool rating. Now, give me the wine bottle." Puck managed to snatch it from Rachel's hand – probably because she'd gone into a daze, mouthing the word 'cool' to herself repeatedly. He poured it in, and then smirked at the room.

"Drink's up, guys."

* * *

"Alright, Blaine, truth or dare?" Mike said, swaying slightly from his spot on the floor. Blaine, who hadn't been affected by the alcohol yet, grinned.

"Truth."

"Drink up then, Blainey boy!" David said happily, a slightly absent grin on his face. Blaine rolled his eyes, and knocked back a shot of the killer alcoholic punch.

"The other day... I can't really remember what day it was... Tuesday? No, couldn't have been Tuesday, because _today's_ Tuesday... Wait, today's not Tuesday, is it? It can't be, because then mom would've made me stay at home for dinner... What was the question?" Mike looked around curiously.

"Truth or dare, honey." Tina said, giggling happily. Mike smiled.

"Dare."

"No, you asked Blaine, dear, and he said 'truth'. So now you ask him a question, remember?" Mike opened his mouth into an 'oh' shape, and smirked at Blaine.

"Right. The other day, when you met Kurt on a date, did you have rambunctious sex? Only, well, we all thought you did." Kurt flushed to the same colour as the punch, and Blaine released a _very_ weird noise that sounded like a mixture of a squeak and a moan.

"_What_? No! Not that, you know, sex with Kurt would be _bad_ – it'd probably be great – _fantastic_, even... I - I'm going to shut up now." He took another shot of punch, studiously avoiding my, David's and Kurt's eyes, and then span the bottle. "Santana, truth or dare?" He said hurriedly.

"Dare, of course. What d'you take me for?"

"Uh... Go... Give Tina a lap dance." Blaine didn't catch the looks everyone gave him, because he was whispering frantically in Kurt's ear. Halfway through their whispering – everyone was staring at them, but they were oblivious to it – Kurt gulped, downed a shot, took Blaine by the hand and dragged him out of the room. There was silence, and then Santana said,

"Do I still have to do the dare?"

* * *

"Wes? Wes. Wes, I think the people are turning blue, Wes. Why _is_ the sky blue, anyway? I like the sky, it's pretty. Where's Kurt and Blaine? Surely they can't still be doing whatever they're doing. Unless... No, wait, there they are. Over there. Huh. They're not blue. Why aren't they blue?" Ah, the joys of being designated driver. Drunk people seem to sniff you out and ramble at you for hours on end.

**I wasn't **_**that**_** drunk.**

David, you don't even _remember_ most of the night, that's why you made me write it up!

Everyone had given up on Truth or Dare without actually coming to that conclusion and, true to Puck's word, everyone had paired off almost exactly as he'd said – except Santana was in a corner, crying hysterically, and it was just David and Mercedes giggling; I was watching everyone get steadily more and more drunk.

"I just want everyone to know..." Blaine shouted suddenly, standing up unsteadily and grinning inanely. Kurt giggled loudly. "I love Kurt. Very, very, _veeery_ much. One day, I'd like to have his babies." He nodded his head solemnly, and I repressed a snigger.

"Dude, is this normal behaviour for him?" Sam said, with a very similar resigned expression on his face as was on mine – a fellow designated driver, it seemed.

"He's always been one for public displays of affection, but usually they're more eloquent and involve bursting into song..."

"And now, I'd like to dedicate a song to my beautiful Kurtsie, which is called 'Baby Got Back'."

"Huh. Apparently, some character traits don't recede with drunkenness," I said, taking a sip of Coke and sitting back to watch Blaine serenade Kurt with Sir Mix A Lot. Kurt seemed to enjoy it, too – either that, or he was just swaying appreciatively from being drunk. Luckily for them, only Sam and I seemed to be paying attention – everyone else was either as intoxicated as they were, or more so. Finn was actually passed out on the floor, while Quinn poked him with her foot angrily.

"Blaine, I want to tell you that, even though your hair smells like Mr Shushe... Suest... Mr Will Glee Club, which would normally put me off, I would love you to have my babies. We should go make some right now, in fact." Kurt's face fell. "Oh, wait, we can't. Finn told me we can't have sex when we're drunk, because it doesn't work."

"_Really_?" Blaine said, leaning forward worriedly. "When does it start working again?"

"The sad thing is," Sam said thoughtfully, swilling his limeade around in its cup. "We'll be the only two who remember anything from tonight. And who's honestly going to believe us when we say Kurt and Blaine believed that sex doesn't work when drunk?" I grinned evilly, and pointed to Rachel.

"I happen to know that Rachel owns a camcorder – Kurt told me that she made a music video before or something. So, we just ask if we can borrow it. She's not going to ask why, she's spinning on the spot and praying to the fairies." Sam raised his eyebrows.

"I still don't understand why you Warblers have such controlled performances – you're all evil as hell." I shrugged.

"We hold back the crazy during performances, which makes us weirder in everyday situations. Rachel?" I said, poking Rachel. She stopped spinning abruptly and squinted at me.

"Wes? Or are you David? Are you spying on my performance?"

"I'm Wes, and no, I'm not. Can I borrow your camcorder? I want to make a music video." I gave the first excuse that popped into my head, and Rachel squealed.

"I love music videos! Can I be in it? Actually, I demand to be in it, because it's my house, and my punch, and I'm so extra specially talented. Go get it right now, in fact – it's in that drawer over there." She pointed wildly to the other side of the room.

"Thanks, Rach. And don't you think it'd be a better idea if we all stayed the night? Then no one's likely to get hurt," Sam said reasonably. Rachel nodded, and went back to spinning. Sam turned to me. "This way, I can head home now and grab my laptop, while you start filming. No one's gonna be awake before midday tomorrow, so we can hook the film up, burn it onto a disk and play the film when everyone's sobered up a little." I stared at Sam in shock.

"Why've I been told you're stupid?"

"Because I am." He shrugged whilst grinning. "That doesn't mean I can't be an evil genius, you know. I just lack common sense."

* * *

"It's done. It's... _brilliant_. Sam, have I told you how amazing you are?"

"You could mention it more often."

**I can't believe you two were bromancing while I was unconscious. I feel cheated on.**

This is precisely why I haven't told you until now – you'd get jealous. If you hadn't gotten drunk out of your head, you could've joined in, making it the most epic bromance since the Bee Gees.

**...They **_**are**_** brothers, twat.**

And that's precisely why the bromance would be epic.

"Oh, bloody hell why's that light so bright?" A torrent of swearing erupted from the pile of hungover people at the other side of the room. Sam ejected the disc, turned off his laptop and threw painkillers in that general direction.

"Morning, sunshine. How's your head?" I said, smiling cheerily at the bleary eyed Mercedes; she covered her ears.

"Why're you shouting so _loud_? I'm only over here. Why's Berry sleeping on my legs?" She pushed Rachel off with a hard shove, causing her to squeal and roll off – disgruntled moans followed.

"Rachel, for once in your life, shut your ungodly mouth," Tina said irritably, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"What happened? Was there an earthquake? Are we dead? Where's Candy Mountain?" Brittany said confusedly.

"We're not dead, hun, just severely hungover," Artie said, rubbing his face. "Although, I don't remember anything after I started drinking that punch."

"The last thing I remember," a voice I recognised as Blaine's said, although I couldn't actually see him. "Was Mike asking me something in Truth or Dare..." He crawled out from behind the sofa and sat up slowly. "And then Kurt and I..." He flushed bright red. "I don't remember anything else." Lies, Blaine. _Lies_.

"Who said my name? Whoa, sweet grilled Cheesus... Damn it, Finn, why did you make that so catchy?" Kurt had sat up too quickly, and was forced to bend over and clutch his head. Blaine rubbed his shoulders soothingly – although, the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that Blaine looked like he was going to throw up at any second.

"Warblers, you _rock_! I haven't been this hungover in _months_!" Puck said, entirely too cheerfully for someone supposedly hungover.

"Wait, what do the Warblers have to do with our hangovers?" Lauren said, popping up next to Puck. I waved my hands frantically at Puck, but he was entirely oblivious.

"Well, David and Wes specifically. They helped me spike the punch with _really_ strong vodka. Help spice things up, you know?"

"You _spiked_ the punch?" Kurt said slowly, glaring at the comatose David and me for a few minutes. "I..." He deflated. "I can't even bring myself to get angry at the moment, it's too much effort. But I assure you, I will. Eventually. Somebody kick David, would you?" Quinn, who was closest, nudged him gently with her toe, resulting in him rolling over onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

"God, this is... Damn. Did somebody hit me round the head with a crowbar? Or run me over at all with a tractor? Because this isn't a hangover, it's _hell_."

"Is everyone awake, and feeling somewhat alive? Wes and I have something to show you all." Sam said, waving the CD in the air. Everyone looked at us, half-confused, half-suspicious.

"If this is anything Broadway, I will literally cry. I can barely stand Rachel crooning to Broadway songs while I'm _sober_." Santana said, shuffling into a sitting position against the wall. I sniggered.

"Broadway makes an... _appearance_, you could say. Rachel, you wouldn't happen to have a projector we can hook the DVD player up to, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. My dads and I like to watch the Oscars on a bigger screen, so as to appreciate the dresses in a much clearer detail." She tottered unsteadily over to the DVD player, fiddled with the wires for a few minutes, and then held out her hand for the CD, which Sam handed over.

The screen was black for a few minutes, and then Sam's face appeared on the wall that the DVD player was being projected onto. Everyone looked at it curiously.

* * *

"Is it on?" Sam said – my voice could be heard muttering in the background. "Okay. Good morning, guys. I really hope none of you are dead, but I hope you've all got the hangovers from hell because trust me, after the amount you've been drinking, you'll deserve it. Some... _interesting_ things have been happening, that Wes and I feel you're not going to believe when you're all in your right minds." The camera shook as it was passed over, and then my face filled the screen.

"So, in the interests of truth and friendship, we've decided to record your antics, so you can appreciate them sober, like Sam and I have had to. Oh, and another thing... Anything you witness here – you did yourselves. Sam and I had _no_ say in it. At all. This all came from your drunk little minds. Enjoy, guys!" The picture fades to black – thank God for Sam's computer skills – and then refades into a picture of Artie and Mike giggling like small children, their backs to the camera.

"Artie, Mike, what're you doing?" They turn around guiltily, hiding the wall they had been facing with their backs.

"Uh... Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"We promise." Apparently they were unaware of the camera, because they looked at each other, sniggered again, and moved away from the wall with a flourish.

"We found some lipstick in Brittany and Tina's bags, and Mike said 'These look like pens!' Then _I_ said 'But they're not pens, because you can't write with them.' So Mike said we should try it, but we couldn't find any paper, so we thought we'd use Rachel's bathroom wall instead." There, covering her wall, were the type of doodles you find in any teenage boys notebook – but on a _much_ bigger scale. Penises, boobs, crude drawings of cars, more penises, and a huge table, rating the New Direction girls' asses.

"You know, Rachel might not like this, guys," Sam said, the camera shaking slightly from where I was silently laughing whilst holding it.

"...She won't _mind_... Though we should up her ass rating, just in case." Mike nodded decisively, and rubbed at the number by Rachel's name with his sleeve, leaving a dark red smear on the white tile. The screen faded to black again, and cut to a picture of Santana crying.

"Santana? Are you okay?" I asked – Sam was holding the camera. She nodded, shook her head, nodded again, and then shrugged.

"Maybe. What's the camera for?"

"We're making a movie," I said simply. "Of everyone here. We're all going to watch it in the morning." Santana stared into the camera for a few seconds. Suddenly, she blurted out,

"I _love_ you guys. Very much. I know I _say_ I hate you, but I love you all lots. Except Berry. I do actually hate you. But not as much as I used to. So, does that mean I love you? Yes, I love Rachel Berry, in a I want to pull your brains out through your nostrils kind of way." She stopped crying, stood up quickly and shouted, "Now who wants an _ORGY_?" Rather than the camera fading out to the next scene, however, the camera just span around and moved through the dancing bodies, eventually stopping in front of Rachel.

"Hey, Rach, what're you doing there?" Rachel looked up from her phone and blinked slowly for a few minutes.

"I'm texting?" She questioned. She looked down at her phone again. "Yeah, I'm texting."

"Who're you texting, then?" I said, leaning over to have a look – she pulled the phone away possessively.

"Finn. He needs to know that our love is real, and if he wants, I'm totally ready for him to have his wicked way with me. Only I can't remember how to spell 'I'. Is it like eye?" She poked herself in the eye, but didn't seem to notice. "Or is it like 'aye', as in Scottish people?" The camera shook, and then Sam appeared at Rachel's side; he held out a hand for the phone, which she passed over without argument.

"What do you want to say, Rachel? I'll type it out, and then you can read it to make sure it's okay."

"Type in 'I love you, and you need to have sex with me.'" Sam didn't bat an eyelid, but just typed it in and handed it back to her. She squinted at the screen, nodded and pressed send – well, I assumed she pressed send.

Finn suddenly appeared onscreen, brandishing his phone like a weapon.

"It _vibrated_! Why's it vibrating, Rachel? Is my phone breaking? Are we all going to _die_?" She gasped.

"I don't know, Finn! But now your phone's broken, you're not going to get my text which proclaims my love!" Finn sighed.

"We need to fix my phone. I know if you hit a nail with a hammer it fixes things, so maybe if we hit my phone with a hammer?"

"Brilliant plan... Oh, wait, my dads don't have a toolkit. Would a mallet work?" Finn looked confused.

"Why would Puck's hair help?"

"That's a _mullet_, Finn. I think. And I didn't know Puck had a mullet, I thought he had a Mohawk." If you listened to the video very carefully, you could hear drunk singing in the background, and an occasional snort of laughter from Sam. Finn shook his head knowledgably.

"No, it's definitely a mullet. See?" He reached out of the camera shot, and pushed a very drunk looking Puck up close to the camera. "Muuulllllllett. Huh. Mullet. It sounds weird if you keep saying it over, like it's not a word, you know? Mullet. Mullet mullet mullet mullet-"

"Where'd Lauren go? Damn it, she was going to let me touch her knockers!" Puck swore loudly. "I hate you all! You all suck! I wish I'd never come to this god damn party, and Lauren won't let me into her enormous pants, and I'm going to be a celebrate monk for the rest of my life!" Lauren suddenly appeared, sniggering cruelly.

"You mean shelibate. Sella-butt. Shelly-bait? Whatever. Come on, Puckerman, let's go not touch my boobs." Puck looked appeased at the mention of the word 'boobs', and was pulled off camera as the picture turned black again.

"It's very dark in here..." A voice whispered on screen. There was giggling, and then shushing.

"David, don't let them hear us, we're _hiding_!" Another giggle. Then, the sound of fumbling on the camera, and the picture changed into the traditional green of night vision. The camera angle was very low, almost as if...

"Sam," I muttered to him. "Were you filming this from the floor?" He nodded.

"Under the bed, actually. While you were looking for Kurt and Blaine." I grunted in acknowledgement, and went back to watching the film.

"Mercedes? Why aren't they coming to find us?" Mercedes shrugged.

"Dunno. Maybe they've forgotten us. We should play a game while we wait – I spy with my little eye, something beginning with 'd'."

"Uh... Dark?"

"Yes! Your turn!"

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... 'D'."

"Hmm... Oh, dark!"

"Hooray!" The film started to move quicker, the timer on the bottom of the screen flying through the seconds. The picture eventually faded to Sam, on his own, holding the camera up so he could talk into it.

"Because I care about you lot, I won't make you sit through the half an hour I did of 'I Spy Darkness'. But Mercedes and David have summed up a very important theory – simple amusements for simple minds." He grinned wickedly and turned the camera off. A few seconds later, it turned back on, this time with me commentating.

"We've finally managed to track down the elusive Quinn – and let me tell you, it wasn't easy. I feel like a nature documentary narrator... Anyway, come on, Cameraman Sam." Sam trotted after me as I opened the door to the kitchen, where Quinn was raiding the fridge.

"Quinn?" She turned rapidly on her heel, and glared wide eyed at the camera, one eye twitching.

"What? What do you want? _My_ food!" She hugged the fridge possessively. To my credit, I didn't even bat an eyelid.

"How're you feeling?" She growled like a wild animal, baring her teeth in a scowl.

"_MY_ food!" I held up my hands defensively.

"Okay, Quinn, _your_ food. Please don't kill me!" Sam and I backed out of the room, with the distinct sounds of Quinn muttering 'Food, I love food, still getting cravings, so _hungry_...' The camera spun around to an accidental close-up of Brittany, who was walking around clad only in her underwear and one of Rachel's lampshades on her head.

"Hey, Brittany," I said dubiously. I'll be honest, I was _scared_ of Brittany on normal, sober days. There was no telling what she'd be like _drunk_.

"Wes, have you seen Tina? We're acting out Harry Potter, and I've lost my wand, so if she finds me she'll probably kill me – she's Voldemort, you know." She nodded wisely, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't liable to kill us, like Quinn probably would.

"No, I haven't... Wait, isn't that her, with bits of plant stuck to her arms?" Sam said, his hand appearing on camera to point at what was most definitely Tina, sneaking along with 'camouflaged' arms – the hilarious thing was she was pressing herself up against a white wall. Brittany just looked at her blankly, then threw her head back and let out a high-pitched squeal, before rushing out of the room, closely followed by Tina.

"Well..." I said slowly. "That was weird. Even for drunken behaviour."

"But it was Brittany," Sam added wisely.

* * *

The movie shuddered to a halt, and I heard Kurt and Blaine breathe a distinctive sigh of relief. I merely smirked as the movie jumped back into life, revealing a shot of both Sam and me.

"Bet you thought we'd forgotten you, huh, Klaine?" Sam turned to look at me and mouthed 'Klaine?' "Yeah, it's quicker than saying 'Kurt and Blaine' all the time." He nodded as if his life was suddenly so much easier. "So, rather than just including a clip of your antics – and trust me, guys, what you've seen so far was just clips, we couldn't possibly film the _whole_ night – we followed you around for most of the night, and just edited in the best bits."

"Unfortunately," Sam said sombrely. "We missed the chance to film the 'Baby Got Back' serenade, but you'll just have to believe us when we say that it was epic in all its entirety."

"Never fear, though," I said happily, waving my arms with a flourish that Sam mimicked (I'll admit, we rehearsed it). "Klaine is here!"

* * *

"Hey, Blaine – Wes and Dav... Hey, you're not David!" Kurt said irritably, poking Sam repeatedly in the arm.

"Yeah, where's David, Wes?"

"Contrary to popular belief, we aren't joined at the hip." Kurt giggled.

"I want Blaine joined to my hips." Blaine waggled his eyebrows in what I can only assume was supposed to be sexy.

"Just name the time and place, baby." He was _so very drunk_.

"Right here, right now?" Blaine gasped.

"But... They're _watching_, Kurt!"

"Let them watch," Kurt all but growled, practically pouncing on Blaine. The screen went black, and then Sam's voice came over the speakers.

"If we'd shown you any more, this would be classed as soft porn, so we'll just skip ahead, shall we?"

* * *

"I, Blaine, take thee–"

"So, guys, what're you up to now?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe. Blaine sighed in exasperation.

"We're practicing our wedding. If you feel you must watch, then just be quiet!" He coughed. "_Anyway_, I, Blaine, take thee, Kurt, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to... uh, have sex with, to make breakfast for and pin against the wall for very hot morning sex, to buy shoes with and take showers together for extremely hot shower sex, and to watch 'Wicked' with you on repeat from this day forward." Kurt smiled widely, and then sang,

"_Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight,_

_I need help believing, you're with me tonight._

_My wildest dreaming, could not foresee,_

_Lying beside you, with you wanting me._"

"This is bloody _surreal_," Sam muttered from behind the camera.

"Why, because you know it could happen in reality, or because you're feeling all choked up at a pretend wedding?"

"...Both."

* * *

Kurt and Blaine were staring avidly at a blank piece of paper. Before Sam or I could even ask what they were doing, Kurt sighed in frustration.

"_No_, Blaine. I know what you're thinking, and the answer is _no_."

"I bet you don't know what I'm thinking at _all_," he replied smugly, folding his arms behind his head.

"Ooh, reeeeaally?" Blaine nodded. "You're thinking that '_Elvendork_' is a perfectly acceptable name for our child, aren't you?" Blaine fell backward off his chair, hitting his head on the kitchen floor. "Blaine, for the last time, J. K. Rowling, as talented as she is, has not written a code we should live our lives by!"

"Are they..." Sam said slowly. "Are they planning their kids' names? This doesn't fit into any drunken archetype!"

"Really? The distinct lack of clothing doesn't fit into the 'gets naked while drunk' archetype, no?"

"...To be honest, I hadn't even noticed. I think I'm becoming immune to people in their boxers after seeing Finn in his."

"I... You know what, I don't want to know."

* * *

"Is that... Blaine, Kurt, why're you wearing Rachel's clothes? You realise she will _kill_ you in the morning?" Kurt snickered.

"But we look so pretty! The cat on Blaine's sweater really brings out the colour in his eyes."

* * *

The movie came to an abrupt stop. There was silence in the room, and then Kurt said,

"I don't know whether to be mortified at that, angry as hell that you _filmed_ it, or grateful that I didn't do anything too _heinous_."

"We figured you wouldn't want some of the more... _adult_ rated stuff filmed." Blaine spluttered, and Kurt squeaked,

"We... You... Did you _watch_?"

"What did we do?" Blaine said quickly, and Kurt smacked him on the arm. "What? You don't remember, I don't remember – we might've had sex without realising it!"

"Trust me, Blaine – there was no sex. Do you honestly think anyone would still be here if you two started getting your 'groove' on?"

"Well, you stayed even though Lauren and I-"

"Puckerman, we didn't have sex. We didn't even kiss."

"I – what – _damn __it_!"

* * *

**...I **_**hate**_** you.**

Still? Really? Admit it, you'd have done exactly the same thing.

**Oh, yeah, I know, and I don't hate you for that. What I hate you for is indulging in another bromance without me!**

David, you know ours is the most epic bromance out there.

**Thank you, that's all I wanted to hear. Kurt and Blaine are **_**weird**_** drunks, kids, so don't let them go out. Or drink alcohol. They start getting all horny and sentimental, which is a bloody **_**freaky**_** combination.**

Speaking of sentimental...

**Oh, god, you're right, the ultimate sentimental fest was coming up. Graduation. And you've left it to **_**me**_** to write. Dick.**

Think of it as payback for making me designated driver that night. That alcohol looked _awesome_.

* * *

**Author's Note: I feel I should say something before I get down on my knees and thank you all profusely for the love you've shown me. **

**Some of you, at the end of a chapter, get worried that I'm just going to leave it there and not continue. Trust me, guys, I'm seeing this through to the end. And don't worry, I'll make the end painfully obvious. The last chapter will probably be called 'The Final One', or something equally unimaginative. There'll be fanfares and tickertape and balloons and such. And if that doesn't work, I'll change the story status to 'complete' XD**

**So, moving on... Thank you thank you thank you thank you! These reviews, favourites, alerts, reads... Wow. I didn't know people could be so awesome. Never doubt your awesomeness, guys, seriously.**


	12. Death Serenades

**Author's Note: See, told you'd they be coming quicker now :) Huzzah for Easter holidays!**

**Anything you recognise, on a disclaimer note, isn't mine. Tragically.**

* * *

It was the best of times, it was the

**David, I don't think you can use that – Charles Dickens kind of got there before you.**

Fine. Long story short, Dalton was pretty awesome – so, on the morning of graduation, it was pretty sombre at breakfast. There were even occasional sniffs – although, let's be honest, most of them were coming from Blaine, who was feeling bereft; Kurt had spent the previous night at home.

"Guys," Blaine muttered, his eyes red rimmed. "I've been thinking..."

"Oh no."

"Oh dear _God_, no."

"The apocalypse is nigh."

"Lock up your daughters!"

"...Don't you mean sons?"

"Oh, yeah. I guess I just got caught up in the moment."

"Are you finished?" Blaine said irritably; we nodded. "Good. I want to serenade Kurt after graduation."

"Blaine, every time you and Kurt try to incorporate music into your relationship, one of you ends up severely embarrassed. Plus your music taste leaves much to be desired when it comes to Kurt Serenade choices."

"For the last time, I was drunk!" He said hotly, flinging his arms in exasperation. "And I didn't even know I knew all the words to 'Baby Got Back', so I think I deserve some commendation for that."

"Alright, Blaine," I said dubiously. "What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know, a plaque or something?"

"I meant the _serenade_, you twat."

"Oh. Well, I was thinking 'My Heart-"

"No." Wes said shortly.

"Why not? Celine Dion is a _classic_!" Blaine replied. Wes sighed.

"It's also cheesy, overdone and has connotations with Leonardo DiCaprio dying. Do you want Kurt to start crying over the death of Jack while you're trying to be romantic? No. Pick something else." So Blaine, in all his nerdy glory, pulled out an A3 sheet of paper, covered in tiny colour coded writing, organised neatly into columns. He consulted the paper.

"What about... 'Your Song', Elton John?"

"Again, overdone," Wes replied, plucking Blaine's song Bible from his hand to read it. "This list would probably be a really good idea if your song choices weren't so-" he stopped abruptly, looked up at Blaine, down at the paper, and then up at Blaine again.

"_High School Musical_, Blaine?"

"I'll have you know, 'Can I Have This Dance?' is a very romantic-" Wes held up a hand to stop him, leaned across the table and said, his face very close to Blaine's,

"High School Musical, Blaine."

"Yeah, alright." Blaine sighed. "Cross it off."

"Ooh, this one looks promising," I said, pointing to an inoffensive looking song in the middle of the third column. "'Feels Like Home'. I don't recognise it, so it must be vaguely obscure. Hum it, Blaine, see if I do know it." He hummed a few bars; Wes groaned despairingly and put his head in his hands.

"What's wrong with Edwina Heyes?" Blaine said indignantly, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, nothing," came Wes's muffled response in reply. "It's a great song. It's from 'My Sister's Keeper', isn't it?" He carried on without waiting for a reply. "You go ahead, sing a song associated with death as your serenade, see if I care."

"Fine, cross it out. What about... 'Truly, Madly, Deeply?'" I winced.

"_Cascada_?"

"No, I was going for the Savage Garden version, but now that you mention it, I don't want Kurt thinking I'm singing Cascada to him. Come to think of it, cross Bryan Adams's 'Heaven' off too, he might think I'm singing DJ Sammy." I ran my finger down the list, crossing off various songs as I went along. I paused at 'Every Breath You Take', and then crossed that out too – the lyrics are a little bit creepy to qualify as a serenade worthy song, in my opinion.

"Blaine," Wes said eventually, looking up from the heavily crossed out serenade list I'd handed over. "These songs _suck_. You can't sing _any_ of these."

"_Any_ of them? Isn't that a bit-"

"Come on, Anderson. We're going to turn to the magic that is the internet."

* * *

"This is hopeless," Blaine said, wheeling around the room in my computer chair. "All these songs are about sex and girls." We had done what anybody would do in our situation – typed 'love songs' into Google. "Can I not just do Disney?"

"No, Blaine," I said, scrolling down yet another 'Top 100 Love Songs of All Tyme!' list.

**Uh, spelling.**

Those things were beginning to numb my brain. "We're trying to broaden your musical horizons, Blaine, and we can't do that if you insist on repeatedly singing Disney songs." I silently flicked through more websites, before turning to trusty YouTube. "We'll YouTube Hop, see if we can find anything."

"You know," Wes said contemplatively. "The last time I YouTube Hopped, I came across Rebecca Black. You should sing that, Blaine." Blaine chose to ignore Wes, instead humming 'A Whole New World' under his breath whilst texting Kurt, who was on his way back up to Dalton with his family.

"Hey, what about musicals?" I said, fingertips hovering over the keyboard. Wes shook his head and replied,

"Nah, that's expected. We need to think outside the box." He pushed my hands out of the way, typed in 'Love Songs', and started flicking through the videos.

"This isn't going to work – I'll just have to sing something about how much I want to get in his pants. Or adultery – there are plenty of songs about that, right?"

"Blaine, why would you choose to sing a song about adultery to your boyfriend? Do you have some voyeurism fetish?" Blaine slowly wheeled over to me, glared at me, and then slapped me around the head.

"Hey, Blaine... I think I found something." Wes turned up the sound on his laptop, and we all listened, entranced, to the song that was playing.

"This is... This is _perfect_. Was this written for Klaine?" I said, staring at the screen in awe, thanking the Gods of Music, Luck and Klaine that Wes had stumbled across this.

"You can play your guitar and _everything_, Blaine!" Wes said excitedly, practically wetting himself with excitement.

**Was not.**

"You two are pretty naive if you think I can learn to play it that quickly," Blaine said doubtingly, looking at the screen dubiously.

"Go get your guitar now, I'll look for the tab online." Wes frantically started typing away on the keyboard.

"Whoa, wait, who said I was doing this song?" We both looked at him incredulously. "Alright, I know, of course I'm doing it. But there's no need to _assume_." He tried to pout as he left the room, but I could distinctly hear him singing the song to himself as he walked down the hall.

* * *

"This is it..." I said, staring around the hall, where families were gathered around their children. "I can't believe I won't see you again." Wes made a disbelieving noise.

"I'm going to _college_, David, I'm not _dying_. Just think of it this way – we'll never have to hear one of Blaine's 'Kurt' playlists again. Speaking of Klaine, where've they gone?" We looked around (I used the chance to subtly wipe my eyes)

**...Me too.**

Oh, Wes, you _do_ care!

**Alright, alright, let's not get overly sappy now.**

As we were looking for Blaine (we found Kurt in deep discussion with Finn), my phone vibrated in my pocket – it was a message from Blaine. It read,

'I know you two will attempt to spy on us anyway, so thought I'd let you know that I'm in the rehearsing room. Hurry up and hide yourselves before I text Kurt ;) –B'

**Permission to spy. This was a pivotal moment in our lives, and one we cherished forever.**

We looked around to check that nobody was watching us, and then we slipped out of the hall. Wes sniggered.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing. It's just... So many years in expensive schooling, and it seems the only thing I've learnt to do is spy on my gay best friends – and now he's giving us permission, it's left that skill a bit redundant." I snorted; I knew exactly what he meant. Ask me to hold a conversation with a French person? I'd probably just shout at them in English. Ask me the best way to spy on Blaine? I could give you a twelve-step plan, including a map, tick sheet and all of New Directions phone numbers.

I pulled open the rehearsal room door, and sure enough, there was Blaine, pacing nervously back and forth. He shot us a forced, anxious grin and gestured vaguely around the room.

"He's not here yet."

"Yes, Blaine, we can see that. Are you alright, mate?" Wes said, raising an eyebrow – neither of us had seen Blaine look quite so frazzled before.

"Huh? Yeah. Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because Wes was the one that spoke, yet you're looking at me." I put the back of my hand on Blaine's forehead. "Do you feel ill? Usually you can tell us apart." He pulled away irritably.

"I'm _fine_, just nervous. What if he doesn't like the song? What if I mess up the chords? What if I lose my _voice_?"

"Blaine?" Wes shouted, in order to get Blaine to stop ranting. When he did, he carried on quietly. "Calm down. Kurt _loves_ you, remember? He's not going to think any less of you if you happen to mess up – which you won't, by the way. If anything, he's possibly going to jump you the moment you start singing. So, take a deep breath, text Kurt, and get ready for mind-blowing sex. Only... give us time to get out before then, yeah? We're spies, not perverts."

"Right... Yeah. Okay, behind the curtain."

* * *

"Blaine? You in here? I got your text..." Kurt came into the room, smiling widely when he saw Blaine sitting on the piano stool.

**We'd told him to sit down so that he wouldn't be worn out from pacing when Kurt turned up.**

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said, smiling just as widely. He stood up, and gestured to the stool. "Sit down, I've got some things I want to say." It said a lot about how much Kurt's confidence in their relationship had grown, that he didn't immediately question whether Blaine was going to break up with him.

**I never did understand why they were both so worried about that. They were obviously besotted with each other, everyone could see that.**

"Kurt, you know I've never been very good with romance, or expressing my feelings." Kurt sniggered from experience, and I had to stifle a laugh too. "And, as I always do, I've turned to song to try to help me. But... And this has never happened before... It was _so_ difficult, trying to find a song that expressed how I feel about you in verses, a chorus and a chord progression. So difficult, in fact, that I made a table of possible serenade choices and everything." He grinned ruefully. "Eventually, I found a song that comes close to how I feel."

**I'm glad he didn't say anything about us helping him find a song – that's not a very romantic idea, your boyfriend's best friends choosing his serenade song.**

I was convinced he was going to tell Kurt – and then all hell would probably have broken loose.

"Oh, Blaine, that's... Wait, you haven't brought any Warblers with you. This is new." Kurt grinned cheekily, and Blaine chuckled.

"I wanted to try something different." He leant around the piano, pulling out the guitar he had hidden just before Kurt had walked in. Kurt stifled a gasp, bringing his hands up to his mouth, and I smiled. "In case the following doesn't make it _painfully_ clear... I love you, Kurt Hummel." He took a deep, calming breath,

**I crossed my fingers, and possibly grabbed your hand for support. Sorry about that.**

No problem, I was literally about to do the same thing. I felt like a pre-teen.

And began to play.

"One word, that's all you said

Something in your voice caused me to turn my head.

Your smile, just captured me

And you were in my future as far as I could see

And I don't know how it happened, but it happened still

You ask me if I love you, if I always will." Blaine, who had been looking nervously at his own feet, looked up at Kurt, whose eyes were wet and lips were pulled back into a huge smile. Blaine smiled back, and plunged into the chorus, maintaining eye contact.

"Well you had me from hello

I felt love start to grow

The moment that I looked into your eyes you won me

It was over from the start, you completely stole my heart

And now you won't let go

I never even had a chance, you know

You had me from hello." Kurt stood up and made his way over to Blaine, who had somehow made his way into the middle of the room. Just as Blaine opened his mouth to sing the next verse Kurt jumped in, effectively silencing Blaine.

"Inside I built a wall

So high around my heart, I thought I'd never fall

One touch, you brought it down

The bricks of my defences scattered on the ground

And I swore to me I wasn't going to love again

The last time was the last time I'd let someone in." Both of them had tears streaming down their faces as they looked at each other, smiling, and I heard Wes sniff quietly. However, I didn't get a chance to see if he was crying, because Kurt and Blaine started to sing the chorus together, and mushy Klaine was something I was not willing to give up seeing.

"But you had me from hello

I felt love start to grow

The moment that I looked into your eyes you won me

It was over from the start, you completely stole my heart

And now you won't let go

I never even had a chance, you know

You had me from hello." Kurt, by this time, was crying a little bit too hard to sing coherently, so Blaine carried on singing on his own, looking deep into Kurt's eyes.

"That's all you said

Something in your voice caused me to turn my head

You had me from hello

You had me from hello," Kurt wiped his eyes and took a deep breath, in order to join in with the last line.

"Oh, I've loved you from hello." They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, before Kurt practically collapsed sobbing onto Blaine's shoulder . For once, Blaine actually interpreted the situation correctly, and hastily wrapped his arms around Kurt, pushing his guitar out of the way so that it was resting on his back. They stood with their arms around each other tightly for a few minutes, before Kurt said quietly,

"Oh God, Blaine, I can't believe it's over, and we'll hardly see each other any more, and I'll miss you so much..." Gently, Blaine pushed Kurt away so he could look him in the face.

"Kurt Hummel, do you honestly think I'm going to let a little thing like distance get in the way? We'll only be an hour away from each other – that's less of a distance between here and Lima, and we got around that, right?" Kurt sniffed.

"Yeah, I know... It's just... I'm so _happy_, Blaine, and every time I'm remotely happy something happens to change all of that, and I'm just scared that..."

"That I'll leave?" Blaine said astutely (Damn, he was on a _role_). Kurt nodded. "I promise you, I am not going _anywhere_. I'll be around as long as you want me. In fact..." Blaine blushed heavily.

"What? Blaine, you can't just leave it hanging like that." The look of pure _love_ they shared between each other was so adult and mature that I had to frantically stifle a gasp, and I wiped my eyes with my hand.

"I... Is it weird that I'm planning our future together? Like, ten, fifteen years down the line?" Blaine, who was looking down at his shoes during his confession, missed the look of unadulterated joy on Kurt's face – but he didn't miss the searing kiss he pulled him into.

**Good job, really.**

"I've been planning different colour schemes for our wedding," Kurt whispered confidentially, before leaning in to kiss Blaine again.

"David," Wes whispered almost silently to me. "We need to try to leave. It's probably going to get pretty heated in here, and as much as I love Kurt and Blaine, I don't want to see them naked."

"Never fear, for I have a plan." I whipped out my phone (pre-emptively put on silent), and texted Blaine with a 'We need to get out – u need privacy. Go somewhere less open.' Less than a few seconds later, Blaine's phone buzzed, and Kurt moaned.

**I seriously thought, at that moan, that Blaine was going to forget we were there and have wild sex on the **_**floor**_**.**

"Just leave it, Blaine," he said, nibbling on his ear. Blaine stifled a groan, and managed to croak out,

"It'll be David or Wes, wondering where we are. We should go somewhere else, so they won't f-find us easily... Oh, God, Kurt, you need to stop doing that while I'm trying to conversate." Kurt pulled away, grinning.

"'Conversate', Blaine?" Blaine mock glared at Kurt.

"Shut up, that's what happens when I'm distracted. Now come on, we're going to go say goodbye to my dorm room. Then your dorm room. Then possibly Wes and David's dorm room." Kurt snickered evilly, let Blaine take him by the hand, and they both ran out of the room. As soon as we were sure they were gone, Wes (whose eyes were very red, children of Klaine) whimpered.

"I can't believe they're going to go christen my _bed_. _I_ didn't even get laid on my bed!" I turned to him, confused.

"But what about when you were with Santana? I thought you took her back to our room while I was on holiday with my parents?" He squirmed uncomfortably.

"Yes, I technically took her back to our room... And yes, I got laid... But it wasn't specifically on _my_ bed." I stared at Wes, first blankly, then in horror.

"_Oh my god_, you had sex in my _BED_?"

"It wasn't intentional! It's just the fact that your bed is closer to the door!"

"There aren't excuses for you behaviour, Wesley! That's... _Urgh_!"

* * *

The four of us stared up at the school.

"You guys are coming to visit me this weekend, right?" Kurt said, his hand seemingly glued to Blaine's. I rested an arm on his shoulder and snorted.

"Please, you're going to be _sick_ of us by the end of summer, believe me. We'll be at your house so many times that your parents will think they adopted us in their sleep."

"Looking forward to it." Kurt turned to Blaine. "You're coming round tomorrow, right?" Blaine nodded eagerly, and Wes let out a sulky humph.

"Why don't we get to come round tomorrow?" Kurt grinned in a very similar manner as to how he had when Blaine suggested they christen our dorm room.

"Well, you can if you want, but Blaine and I were planning on having passionate sex in every room of my empty house while my family were out." Blaine spluttered everywhere, while Wes and I roared with laughter.

"Ah, Hummel, knew we'd have an effect on you eventually. Just think, when you first came to Dalton, you blushed if you so much as _thought_ the word sex. Now look at you-" I faked a sniff. "Our baby Quite Pretty Kurt all grown up and _crude_. I'm so proud."

"I – wait, 'Quite Pretty Kurt'?" He looked to Blaine, but Wes shook his head.

"No, actually, that particular one was Jeff. Blaine's are more along the lines of 'Unf', and 'Dayamn', and 'Be right back, guys, going to go stare at Kurt's face'."

"Kurt, I'll have you know, I'm much more eloquent than that."

"Blaine, did you or did you not once apologise for not listening in World History by saying 'I'm sorry, sir, I was thinking of Kurt Hummel's face'?"

* * *

_5 Years Later_

* * *

_Looking through your parents' attic is a depressing business, David thought grumpily. It's like they packed up everything they could find of me and shoved it up here, until I could come and collect it. _

_So far, all David had found was his old baseball glove from when he was thirteen. And his parents had promised that there were belongings up here that he'd 'hate to throw out'. Sure._

_Half an hour in to his delve in the attic, David came across a black bag, and sniggered to find his previous laptop. It was an archaic thing, yet, to his satisfaction, it still whirred in to life when he sat down to have a nose around his old documents._

_He gasped at one in particular, accidentally inhaling most of the dust in the attic, and frantically hit speed dial one on his phone._

"_David? What the hell, man! You know I'm sleeping during the days! I swear, this night shift is-"_

"_Guess what I found, Wes! I was up in my parents' attic, and _guess what I found_?"_

"_I dunno, your old porn stash?"_

"_Please, I took that with me to the flat. I found my old _laptop_."_

"_Well that's great. Brilliant, even. Now buggar off and let me _sleep_."_

"_It still has the 'Chronicles of Kurt and Blaine' on there."_

"_...I'll be over as soon as I can."_

* * *

**Author's Note: This'll be brief – all the songs Blaine lists here? I'd **_**love**_** somebody to serenade me with them. So please don't flame me if I 'insulted' your favourite love song. Odds are, it's one of my favourites, too.**

**Oh, and just so you know, I've now got a definitive idea of where I'm going with this, for the first time in... Well, ever. For the most part, I've just been going where my fingers take me, but now there's a **_**plan**_**. I feel like David.**


	13. The Klaine Council

**Author's Note: I've had a bit of a StarKid day today – I watched Me And My Dick, followed in quick succession with AVPS... My brain has quite possibly died from awesome.**

**Disclaimer – I own nout. Which is apparently not a word. Pfft. **

* * *

David, I'm surprised you managed to find all of this on your laptop – there's so much _crap_ on here.

**I know. There's a document on here with a bunch of random numbers; I don't even know what they **_**mean**_**. **

Regardless, we've found it, now we have to finish it. Once we start something, we can't just _give up_. And I know the perfect story to regale the Klaine children with. David, go and ring Blaine, and make notes on the 'Incident'.

Right, while he goes to do that – and trust me, these notes may take a while – I'll provide a little filler for you as to the happenings of Klaine over the last few years. As you know, we graduated and all went off to college, Klaine _somehow_ managed to push through long distance turmoil, then... What do you mean, you're done already?

**Precisely that. Blaine said he was busy, and he sounded kind of out of breath, so I didn't question further – I don't need that emotional scarring.**

Oh. What do we do now, then? I can't keep coming down in the middle of the night in the hopes that Blaine might provide us with information for this chronicle.

**Well, we could always just go with what we know already. I mean, come on, we heard Blaine talk about it often enough... I could probably put the story to a tune and sing it backwards, he called me up that often to discuss it.**

But we weren't _there_. How the hell do we write about something that we didn't _witness_, David?

**Ever heard of third person, Wes? You can narrate it in third person, and we can add our own personal touches here and there. **

Won't that get confusing, with all the fonts and what not? Hey, wait a minute, why do I get lumbered with the narration that requires effort?

**Fine, we'll comment at the end. And you have the better writing skill – I tend to go off on unrelated tangents.**

Flattery will get you everywhere in life, David.

Blaine stared at the phone, willing it to ring. He'd left so many messages, after all, you'd think he'd have the decency to ring-

The phone rang, and Blaine practically jumped out of his seat in his haste to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Blaine, you really need to stop texting me while I'm in work," Wes said irritably on the other end. "My boss is getting _pissed_."

"But _Wes_," Blaine whined. "This is important. You know I wouldn't ring while you're at work in case it was a matter of life or death."

"Blaine, the last time you rang about something that was supposedly 'life or death', you wanted my opinion on the colour pink. I still agree with Kurt, and despite how many times you ring me, I'm not changing my mind – pink is a _foul_ colour, especially for your sunglasses." Blaine rolled his eyes – it didn't matter how many times his friends would try, he was _not_ getting rid of his sunglasses.

"Yes, I know, but this is genuinely important. I need to borrow a suit." Blaine heard Wes sigh loudly and obnoxiously.

"Blaine, you must have thousands of suits. Hell, you probably _sleep_ in those damn suits. Why would you possibly want one of mine?"

"Because Kurt's _seen_ all of my suits!" He could practically _hear_ Wes pinching the bridge of his nose over the phone.

"And? If it's that much of a problem, buy a new one!" Blaine started to pace around the room, picking his way around the strewn shirts, ties and jackets that he had thrown around the room in frustration.

"I can't. I suppose that's the problem. I've pretty much only got enough money to live on to a standard that won't make Kurt suspicious." Wes was quiet for a few minutes, as if thinking deeply.

"Please tell me you haven't blown all of your money on hair gel." The sad thing was that Wes seemed to be only partly joking.

"No, I... I bought _it_."

"What, a blow-up sex doll?" Blaine almost screamed in irritation.

"No, you idiot, I bought _it_. Imagine the word 'it' italicized, if that helps."

"Oh, a blow-up sex doll that looks like Kurt? Is that why you can't say it, is Kurt with you now?"

"No, he's visiting Lima for the week. And why the hell would I need a blow-up sex doll that looks like Kurt, when I've got the real thing?"

"Whoa, whoa, Blaine, too much information! Alright, if it's not the doll, what it is?"

"I bought the ring!" Wes was silent for what felt like hours, but from Wes's end of the phone came faint beeping sounds, then,

"What the hell, Wes? It's... Well, I don't even want to know what time it is, it'll just depress me in the morning when I have to get up for work."

"David, he _did_ it. He finally grew some balls and bought the damn thing." There was silence again, followed by an ear-splitting shriek that sounded far too high to belong to two guys. When Wes and David had finally stopped perforating Blaine's eardrums, and had finished asking rapid-fire questions about the ring itself, Wes asked,

"So, tell me, why do you need one of my suits?"

"Well, to propose in, obviously. I mean, Kurt's already seen all of my suits, and I want this proposal to be really _special_, you know?" David sighed.

"Blaine, Kurt is really not going to care what you're wearing – you'll be down on one knee, proposing to him. Granted, he'd probably be a little freaked out if you turn up in the Dalton blazer, but when you're having hot post-engagement sex, he's going to have forgotten all about your clothes."

"Do you people have no _shame_?" Wes said awkwardly. "I don't want to think about them having _sex_!"

"So, Blaine," David said, ignoring Wes's outburst. "How're you going to propose?"

"I... I haven't really given it much thought. I've been so focused on this ring, that the proposal itself sort of... slipped my mind." Blaine shrugged sheepishly, even though neither Wes nor David could actually see him.

"Honestly, Blaine, you're an idiot. You have to think these things through – especially Kurt, who's so into romance that it's practically seeping out of every orifice."

"That's a horrific image, David. I think it's time to call the Klaine Council to order... But not right now. Not many people take kindly to being woken up at three in the morning."

"Wes, I said I didn't want to know what time it was!"

* * *

"Paris." Mercedes said promptly, as soon as she walked into Blaine's (heavily crowded) sitting room. The last to arrive, she plopped herself down on Blaine's coffee table, and met all of the confused looks with a smug grin. "This is a meeting about how Blaine should propose, right?"

"Yeah... how did you-"

"Elementary, my dear Anderson – you look like you're about to piss yourself with excitement. That and the fact that I was a McKinley spy – we know _everything_."

"True that." Artie piped up.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Alright, everyone, I call the council to order, and-"

"You really miss the Warblers, don't you, Wes?" Quinn said. "Do you want me to get the spare gavel that I always carry whenever I know I'm going to see you out of my purse?" Blaine could see a vague glint in Wes's eye, and was pleasantly surprised when he shook his head. "I'm not kidding, you know." She reached into her purse and, sure enough, produced a gavel. Seconds later, Wes had practically pounced on Quinn, forcing her to relinquish her hold on it to Wes, who sat back in his chair happily.

"Right," he banged the gavel on David's knee, for lack of any other hard surface. "The first order of business – the location. Mercedes, you said Paris?" She nodded.

"Trust me, Kurt has told me his wedding plans so many times that I think I could plan his wedding almost as well as he could – and wedding plans include engagement wishes. He really wants it to be in Paris."

"Okay, somebody get out an iPhone and look up flight tickets and hotel prices to Paris." David, Puck and Mercedes all whipped out there phones like guns from a Western, and glared at each other – the customary glare given when in a race to look something up before anyone else on the internet.

"Second on the agenda – outfit." Santana smirked.

"I think you should go commando." Sam shook his head seriously.

"No, it shouldn't be too overwhelmingly sexy – don't want Kurt jumping your bones before you've actually had a chance to propose."

"So, we all agree that Blaine should at least wear clothes?" There were murmurs of agreement from the room, and a sigh of disappointment from Santana.

"What about a classic tux?" Rachel said thoughtfully. "I, for one, think a tux can look-"

"Rachel, no one cares about your long winded, self-indulged rant. Just leave the good idea at that, before we feel inclined to kill you."

"Just one problem," Blaine said, feeling it was his duty to intervene in the plans for his own proposal. "I don't own a tux."

"What? Blaine, you wore a tux to Prom _and_ Graduation, so I know you own at least two," Wes said.

"Yeah, but I was trying them on the other day, and they don't fit. I think I've grown."

"Or, more likely, they've just shrunk in the wash," Mercedes grinned, and Blaine glared at her.

"Alright, so you've not got a tux. And nobody here is short enough to lend you one, unless Rachel happens to own one."

"I'm not _that_ short!" Blaine huffed, and resolved not to say anything for the rest of the meeting.

"You haven't got any money, either, so you can't buy one..."

"I'll lend you the money if you want, Blaine," Finn said. "I mean, you get paid _loads_, so I know you'll be able to pay me back fairly quickly, and it is my brother's proposal we're talking about here." Blaine almost cooed at the sweetness of the moment, but then Finn added, "If this proposal isn't _perfect_, I'm going to have to hear about it for the rest of forever, so it's really in my best interests to lend you the money."

"Gee, Finn, you're such a selfless person," Quinn said, the sarcasm practically dripping from her voice.

"So that's outfit sorted-"

"If money's an issue, then Paris is looking to be a bit of a problem – it's _expensive_," Mercedes said, passing out her phone to Rachel, who whistled in shock.

"And not, like, top of the Breadstix menu expensive, either," Puck said, nodding at the groan Lauren let out as she looked over his shoulder.

"Well, we'll come back to the Paris issue in a second – keep looking, guys. Third, though, is the issue of how to propose. Blaine, imagine I'm Kurt. I'm doing my own Kurt-y thing, and _boom_, you're proposing. How're you doing it?" Blaine felt he'd have to break his vow of silence, as everyone was looking at him.

"Uh, I was just planning on asking him?" The statement became a question, as Blaine was aware of the disapproving looks he was getting.

"That's _pathetic_. Be imaginative, Blaine. But please, avoid serenading him? You do that all the time, and while Kurt loves it, I don't think I can stomach another story from Kurt that begins 'Oh, Tina, it was wonderful, he sang...'" Tina shook her head. "It gets _repetitive_."

"What should I do, then?"

"Blaine, we can't really help you with this bit, because otherwise it'll look forced. Just... Speak from the heart, okay? Guys, how's Paris looking?"

"Paris is looking a bit of a no go at the moment. However, there are some very cheap holidays to Ohio at the moment, in case you're interested."

"David, why would I want to propose to Kurt in our home state, and one that Kurt isn't overly fond of anyway?"

"That is an excellent point, and one I intend to address. Later."

"Mercedes, was there anywhere else Kurt said he wanted to be proposed to?" Mercedes shook her head at Wes's question; Blaine's head dropped in disappointment.

"Well, why don't you just _pretend_ you're in Paris?" Brittany said reasonably. Rachel sighed.

"Brittany, that is the most-"

"Genius idea I have ever heard," Sam said, with the expression of one possessed. Rachel sighed even louder.

"I hate to be stereotypical, but I think their hair colour is bonding them together over mutual lack of brain cells."

"No, just think about it, guys. We can't send Klaine to Paris... Why don't we bring Paris to them? Turn Blaine's apartment-"

"Into Paris? Brittany, that's brilliant!" Santana said amazedly.

"One tiny problem there, people. How do we change Blaine's apartment, which is full of reminders of nerdy Blaine, into the most romantic city in the world, when Blaine is the King of Anti-Romance?" Wes said, using his gavel as a pointer, flinging it about wildly in Blaine's direction.

"Well, obviously, we won't leave Blaine to do it on his own," Mercedes said, catching on to the plan. We'll all help out until Kurt gets back from Lima – we can't all stay, obviously, but we can be like shift workers until it gets done!"

"Okay," Wes said, looking over to David. "David, make sure this goes down on the minutes." David produced paper and a pen from seemingly thin air, and looked at Wes expectantly. "We're going to need paint, cloth, cardboard, newspaper, glue..."

* * *

Blaine had to hand it to the 'Klaine Council' – he was still getting used to the fact that they held _meetings_ about him and Kurt – they'd done a good job on his apartment. A huge sheet covered the largest wall, with the Paris cityscape at night painted on it by Tina (thank God one of them could paint, was all Blaine could think. He'd seen Wes's attempts at drawing). There was a chandelier, borrowed from Carole (who'd been more than willing to help), hanging in the middle of the ceiling. But the best part, in Blaine's opinion, was the table set for two in the middle of the room on a makeshift balcony – somebody had even acquired a balcony railing to make it more authentic. Blaine suspected Puck.

Granted, this little Paris set-up had been pretty awkward to explain to the landlady when she'd come to visit – fortunately she liked Kurt and, after extracting Blaine's promise to clear it all away afterwards, she'd agreed to look the other way, in exchange for an invite to the inevitable wedding. Her words, not Blaine's.

In all honesty, he was _terrified_. He'd taken to ignoring the phone, unless caller ID specified that it was Kurt, because the only words he could form were 'crap' and 'guh'. And he wasn't entirely sure whether the last one classed as a word. Kurt was under the impression that Blaine had lost his voice after the first phone call, when there had been a lot of croaking and hoarse whispering at Blaine's end.

And now it was Friday, and Kurt was coming home today, and he could practically _feel_ that he was about to piss from nervousness, and he knew he shouldn't do it in this new tux, and-

The phone. It was ringing. And it was Kurt. Blaine answered.

"Hey Blaine, I've just got home, do you want me to come over?" Thankfully, Blaine managed to remember how normal humans made conversation, and he hastily said,

"No, Kurt, it's all right, I'll come pick you up."

"Oh, Blaine, your throat's better!" Kurt said happily. "And you don't have to do that, it'll be easier for me to-"

"I know I don't have to, but I _want_ to," Blaine said, hoping to whoever that some form of charisma was coming through – it appeared to work, however, because Kurt muttered,

"So freaking charming. Okay," he said louder. "I'll be around, unpacking, so just let yourself in the flat when you get here. See you in a bit!"

"I love you, Kurt." It still brought a smile to his face, even after so long.

"I love you too, Blaine," Kurt replied softly.

Throughout the drive to Kurt's, Blaine was practically bouncing in his seat, driving extra carefully to account for his jittering. As he stopped the car, he looked briefly at the passenger seat, and what he saw made him grin – one of Kurt's many scarves, resting there innocently. His smile turned bigger, as what had to be one of his better plans came into his head. Picking up the scarf, he made his way up to Kurt's apartment, letting himself in through the unlocked door.

Sure enough, there was Kurt, his back to the door, unpacking numerous spices with names Blaine couldn't even pronounce, much less remember their uses in food. He snuck up behind Kurt and put his hands on his shoulders, making him jump.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered in Kurt's ear, making him shiver.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" He repeated, and he saw Kurt's cheeks rise from his smile.

"Yes..." Blaine tied the scarf gently over Kurt's eyes, and waved a hand in front of Kurt's face. "Blaine, what're you doing? Well, I hope this is Blaine, and not some kinky murderer who just sounds remarkably like Blaine." Blaine scoffed.

"Of course it's me. I've got a surprise for you, and it requires a blindfold." He took Kurt's hand, causing him to grin. "Come on."

* * *

"Blaine? Can I take this off now?" Kurt said. Blaine shook his head, before remembering that the point of a blindfold was to make people _blind_.

"Not yet. Just stay sat there, and _don't peek_!" Blaine ran out into the kitchen, to be greeted with the grinning face of Mercedes. She held up a piece of paper that she'd written on.

"I won't talk, because my boy has brilliant hearing. The dinner's all ready, on actual plates I borrowed from Carole, as opposed to those monstrosities you were planning on using. I'm gonna go, give you boys some privacy. CALL ME AFTER HE SAYS YES." She nodded decisively, and strode out through the fire escape. Blaine picked up the two steaming plates and carried them through to the sitting room, where Kurt was sitting very still, obviously listening intently. He perked up when the plates were placed on the table.

"Ooh, smells good, Blaine. Can I take the blindfold off _now_?"

"Go on then." He took off the scarf slowly and gasped.

"Is this..."

"Paris? Yeah," Blaine said nervously, twisting the tablecloth in his hands. "Or, at least, the best imitation I could get." Kurt gaped at the cityscape, the balcony and the chandelier, before turning his astonished face to Blaine.

"Did you do all this for me?" It was an odd time to remember one of Wes and David's Twenty-Four rules to romance, but he was glad it was an apt one – 'Don't make jokes at romantic moments – be honest, Blaine, because your jokes are kind of terrible,' David's voice said in his head.

"Yes, I did. Do you like it?" Kurt smiled widely, his eyes sparkling.

"Like it? I love it, Blaine. I love _you_. This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me." He leaned across the table for a kiss that Blaine almost accepted, when Sam's voice came into his head – if he didn't have such forceful friends, he'd say he was mad.

"...Don't want Kurt jumping your bones before you've actually had a chance to propose." Blaine sighed and leaned back, trying to ignore the hurt look on Kurt's face.

"Kurt, trust me, I more than intend on taking you to bed and having my wicked way with you later," Kurt smiled, appeased. "But there's something I want to say first." He tilted his head, looking both confused and concerned.

"What's wrong, Blaine?" Blaine took a deep, steeling breath (Wes's supposedly supportive comment in his head was 'Grow some _balls_, dude!', while he heard Santana scream 'WANKY!' at him. If it wasn't for the fact that they'd all made him promise to ring them later, he'd swear all of his friends had their ears pressed against the door).

"Kurt. As you're probably aware, I'm very much in love with you." Kurt nodded. "I also suck at romance. But I wanted today to be as romantic as possible, because I want to show you, in some way, how much you mean to me. And this is the only way I know that'll show that." He closed his eyes nervously and got down on one knee in front of Kurt – when he opened his eyes and looked up, Kurt looked close to tears, and Blaine ploughed on.

"Kurt Hummel, I'm a dork with frighteningly curly hair, and you deserve someone so much more amazing. Nevertheless... Will you marry me?" Kurt appeared to have frozen. This wasn't looking good. "Kurt? Hello? If you don't want to-" He was cut off suddenly when Kurt practically launched himself at him, both of them ending up on the floor as Kurt kissed him deeply. Blaine moaned in satisfaction before remembering that Kurt hadn't technically answered him yet. Granted, he was now pretty sure of his answer, but it'd be nice to have verbal confirmation. So he regretfully pulled away, earning a whimper of dissatisfaction from Kurt.

"Blaine, get the hell back here, my answer is so obviously going to be yes."

* * *

**See, Wes? I told you your story writing skills are more than adequate. **

What can I say? I'm kind of a genius.

And so, Klaine children, the Paris cityscape worked its magic. Granted, if we're going to give you advice, we'd say that you should save up and actually take your loved person to the _real_ Paris, but Blaine is an impatient git, and wasn't willing to wait. So, for those with a tight budget and eager mind, paint and cloth works just well. Their wedding is next week, and I still haven't got them a present yet... Think they'll mind if I paint it on cloth?

**I have just had the most **_**brilliant**_** idea in the history of ideas.**

Have you even been paying attention to what I've been saying?

**Klaine children, prepare for the most epic experience of your young lives.**

David? _David_, damn it, don't just _not_ tell me what you're planning! _DAVID_!


	14. A Dream Of A Wedding

**Author's Note: Well, this is coming to an end. Just a few more chapters left... I'm really going to miss this. It's almost like my baby, the amount of hours I've put into this. Then again, social services would probably have been called, because I only pay attention to it at night... Moving on.**

**I have ideas for other stories (my mind is about 60% Klaine, 20% Glee, 15% Harry Potter and 5% The Rest Of My Life, so there're always fanfic ideas up there. It's sifting through the crap ones that takes time), but if you've got any requests, feel free to message me, and I'll get right on it.**

**Disclaimer – I don't own anything. I'm kind of running out of different ways to phrase my lack of ownership.**

* * *

**You, my friend, are an **_**idiot**_**.**

I know.

**I mean, you've done stupid things before, but this really takes the cake. The cake of **_**stupid**_**.**

I know.

**God, it's like**

WES, I KNOW.

**Klaine children, there is going to be a change in the writing dynamic of this history of your parents. Your Uncle David left his laptop, logged on, in plain view of the McKinley Spies. Fortunately, only Mercedes looked through all of his files. So, I guess it could've been worse. We could have been forced to include **_**all**_** of New Directions in this project.**

As such, we only had to agree to let Mercedes help with the writing. For the sake of sanity and fluency, we told her that she could have free reign to write about the Klaine Wedding itself, Wes could write about the pre-Wedding, and I get to write about my genius plan.

**I still can't believe you didn't tell me about it. I could've helped.**

It was my idea. The last time I let you help with an idea, it ended up being half yours.

**Ah, yes, the Klaine Chronology.**

Actually, I was thinking about the time we added eight sugars to Kurt's Grande Non-Fat Mocha. But, yes, the Chronology too. So, Wes, ready to kick it off?

* * *

"I don't understand what I _am_," Brittany said flatly, looking at herself in the mirror. I looked up from where I was tying my shoe and caught David's eye – he shrugged and gave me a look that said 'Just go with it'. Santana came up behind Brittany and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, Britt, you're a beautiful woman with an amazing talent for singing the songs of Ke$ha." Brittany shook her head.

"No – I knew that, obviously, because I'm incredibly talented. I mean, what _am_ I? Wes, David and Finn are all Best Men," Puck held up his hands.

"Whoa, dude, wait, why the hell are there _three_ of you? I thought you were all just groomsmen like the rest of us!" David shrugged from where Rachel was exasperatedly trying to tie his tie.

"They couldn't choose between me and Wes." Finn nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, come on, as brother of the groom-"

"Step-brother!" Someone shouted – I wasn't entirely sure who.

"Whatever! Anyway, as the guy who is as close to a family member as they can get who hasn't already got a job, it was obvious that I was going to be one of the best men. Carry on, Brittany." She stared confusedly at her reflection for a few minutes, and then seemed to pick up her train of thought.

"Yeah, so, they're the Best Men, Santana is Flower Girl, Mercedes is Maid of Honor, Rachel is Matron of Honor-"

"Again, they couldn't choose." Finn piped up. He grimaced. "Well, actually, Rachel kind of insisted she get a 'main part', as she put it. And Mercedes was always guaranteed Maid of Honor, what with being their best girl friend and all."

"So," Brittany said, carrying on as if uninterrupted. "They've all got their parts – what am I?"

"That's easy," Santana said comfortingly. "You're one of the bridesmaids." I could see where this was going.

"...Then, who's the bride?" Santana held up her finger and opened her mouth to answer; her finger flopped forward as she remained silent.

"Oh my God, what the hell are we?" Tina said frantically, looking to Mike for support – he shrugged and silently offered to show her his abs. Mercedes looked smug.

"Rachel, isn't it nice to know _precisely_ what part we play in this wedding?" Rachel nodded.

"I, for one, feel-"

"Okay, Rachel, that's enough from you."

"We should ask Kurt," Quinn said finally. "If anyone's planned this out, he will have." The girls all nodded decisively. David shook his head.

"Does it really matter? It's not like the vows go 'I, Blaine, do take thee, Kurt, and thy girl pals, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to gossip with...'" He was stared down by four angry girls. Fortunately, Kurt chose that moment to stick his head around the door, his eyes shut.

"Is Blaine in here?"

"No," came the chorus back. He opened his eyes, but stayed outside of the room, with only his head remaining inside.

"I don't want you to see what I'm wearing till I walk down the aisle," he said, by way of explanation. "You girls alright?" He said concernedly, catching the looks of confusion and worry on the girls' faces.

"Kurt, what _are_ we?" Tina said, still looking panicked, even after having seen Mike's abs. "We're not exactly bridesmaids; neither of you are brides!" Kurt looked contemplative, and then smiled weakly.

"My bitches? I don't know; what do you want to be?" Lauren nodded.

"I think I can make being your bitch work, Hummel." Santana shrugged.

"Yeah, I can think of worse things. Plus being your bitch makes you sound like a pimp, and then I might get included in your marriage bed." Kurt rolled his eyes as a response, but the grin on his face gave him away.

"Fine. You're all mine and Blaine's bitches. But you're not Santana, because you're my flower girl. So no chance of you getting in my marriage bed." Santana groaned in disappointment, and Kurt looked at the rest of us. "You all okay?" Finn suddenly gasped, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "Finn?"

"I've just realised – I forgot to give Blaine the 'Have sex with my brother, you die' speech!" Kurt flushed red, and David sniggered.

"Dude, you're _way_ too late for that now." Giggles came from every person in the room except for Finn, who shuddered, and Brittany, who said,

"I don't get it. Why is Finn too late to talk?" Artie shook his head pityingly, but otherwise no one made mention of it.

"Kurt, how long have we got? Have I got enough time to go nab some tots from someone?" Kurt looked Mercedes up and down pointedly, before saying slowly,

"You're wearing _cream_."

"Your point?" Kurt sighed exasperatedly, as if he felt anyone with any intelligence would understand the significance of 'cream'.

"If you spill anything, those grease stains are going to show up like a bitch in the photos." Mercedes glared at Kurt, who glared back in turn. It was an epic battle of diva stubbornness, and everyone in the room was watching, turning their heads back and forth in a manner commonly seen at tennis matches.

"Kurt, I'm not a kid, I'm not going to spill tots down my dress." Kurt still didn't look appeased, because Mercedes added, "If it helps, I'll wear a bib to protect my dress." Kurt hesitated for a few seconds, and then nodded tiredly. Mercedes squealed, practically ran out of the room, pointedly closing her eyes as she ran past Kurt, and then came back after a few seconds and said to Kurt, her eyes still closed,

"Just so you know, your man is making his way down the hall. If you don't want him to see you..." Kurt's head disappeared before Mercedes had finished speaking, and you could distinctly hear his hurried footsteps heading down the hall.

Sure enough, Blaine walked into the room a few seconds later, his face pale – he was distinctly lacking trousers. There was silence in the room (although I heard Tina whisper to Quinn 'Kurt's so bloody lucky', and there was an approving grunt from Santana), and then Sam said,

"Dude, are you gonna put trousers on? Only I don't think Kurt'll be impressed if he walks down the aisle and sees you in just your boxers."

"I-I can't."

"You... you can't put your trousers on? Why, is it some sort of belief you have, that it's wrong to wear trousers at weddings?" Blaine shook his head mutely at Puck's question, before holding out his hands, which had gone past the stage of shaking – they were _flailing_.

"I swear to Grilled Cheesus, Blaine, if you've got cold feet..." Finn said threateningly, all of the former New Direction boys, David and I enclosing Blaine in a circle. Blaine shook his head vehemently.

"No! God, I've got the opposite of cold feet – I've got hot feet! Boiling, burning, fiery hot feet! I'm just... What if Kurt realises that I'm not good enough for him?" It's amazing how quickly people can go from very threatening to sympathetic and comforting.

"No, Blaine, you're _perfect_ for Kurt!"

"Yeah, I've never seen two people so well made for each other!"

"You're like the Ron and Hermione of the gay world!" Brittany said happily, from where she'd attached herself to Blaine's side. He smiled at her.

"Thanks, Britt. I know how lucky I am that Kurt's marrying me, and there are moments when I think he's going to come to his senses and realise he could probably marry anyone else..."

"Blaine," David said comfortingly. "I can only think of one possible reason that Kurt would consider leaving you at the alter." He looked at Blaine's legs before saying, "You're not wearing any _pants_, dude. Put some trousers on, and then you can embark on the wedded life of Klaine. In... An hour and a half." Puck groaned in boredom as Blaine ran out of the room – hopefully to find his pants.

"Why did we have to come get ready so early? And I can't even plan to have sex with one of the bridesmaids, maid or matron of honour, because I've known them all for years." Finn pointed at Puck angrily.

"Watch it, Puckerman, my _wife_ is one of those women."

"I know, and I've already _had_ sex with _her_."

"Okay!" I said hastily, trying to prevent a fight that was pretty much inevitable once everyone got drunk later. "Look, here's an idea, why don't we all pull a Mercedes, and go find some food? Then – uh, who are you?" A girl had appeared at the door, and Rachel said, shocked,

"_Becky_? What are you... How did you even know Kurt and Blaine were getting married today?" Becky shrugged.

"Coach told me. Just so you know, you've got a problem. Besides your lack of talent." It must have said a lot about the frequency of this girl's barbs that nobody responded. "Your officiant? He called in sick. Something about food poisoning from the restaurant he always goes to every Tuesday evening." She shrugged again.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me. Kurt is... Kurt's going to kill someone. And it'll probably be me. Or David." Finn said, collapsing in a chair.

"Whoa, wait, why is it going to be me? What have I done?" David said frantically, covering his head with his hands.

"I don't know, dude, but whenever I get angry, I feel like killing you. Nothing personal. What the hell are we going to do?"

"Coach has a proposition." Becky said idly, and everyone looked at her. "Coach knows somebody who'd be more than willing to officiate, free of charge." Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"What's the catch?"

"Yeah," Mike said. "She's hated us for years, why would she help us out now?"

"She doesn't hate Kurt, and she's got nothing against Blaine, so she said she'd be willing to help. If..."

"Ah, here comes the 'you have to give me your first born child' clause." Sam said, laughing manically at the end of his statement. Santana shook her head in exasperation.

"It's nothing major, she just says that you have to agree that you'll let her pick the officiant, with no input from any of you, and you don't get to know who it'll be until the moment the ceremony starts. Deal?" There is a slight pause, and then Finn said,

"Deal. We've got no other options, guys, so we'll just have to bank on the fact that Sylvester doesn't hate Kurt." Becky nodded, and silently left the room.

"Who is this ominous sounding 'Coach', by the way?" I asked the room at large.

"She used to coach the Cheerios, and she hated us because we took away her funding, stole her top Cheerios, and appeared to be going against the status quo. According to her."

"God, your school was like a television drama, I'm serious. What next, a guidance counsellor who is unable to face her own problems?"

"Oh, so you've met Miss Pillsbury, then?"

* * *

...Guys, I don't know what to write.

**Mercedes, it's not difficult. You just write what you saw. **

Why?

**Because that's the point. We're providing our own fresh viewpoint on the life and times of Klaine.**

So, what do I write?

**Just pretend you're a journalist. If it helps, imagine that their children will read this one day.**

Oh, that helps. Okay. Let me just read what you put... Right, I know what I'm doing now.

* * *

When I got back from my tots mission – completely free of stains – our changing room was in a state. Everyone was flocked around Brittany, looking panicked and frantic as occasionally someone ran to the sink, wet a cloth and ran back to the circle.

"What the hell is going on?" I shouted, causing everyone to turn around.

"Brittany spilled salad dressing on her dress!" Finn said, waving his arms like a madman. "Kurt's going to be livid, and there'll be blood, and we need to sort it out, but water isn't doing anything!" I sighed and elbowed my way to the front. Holding out my hand, I said,

"Get me a towel. Dry. Water isn't going to work. Luckily, I came prepared. Someone go get my purse." It's a nice feeling, power. I can see why Rachel frequently tried to take over the Glee club. My purse appeared in my hand – I rummaged through it, before pulling out my stain remover pen. Wes looked at me like I was a genius, but there were a lot of blank stares.

"I had a feeling Brittany would spill something oil based on somebody, so I packed my pen, just in case." Fortunately, the pen worked its magic, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Britt, how did you even manage to spill salad dressing on yourself? You weren't even _eating_ salad," Santana said, patting the dress dry.

"Well, I found the salad dressing in Kurt's bag, and it said 'chocolate' flavour on it, so I tried some, but then it squirted out of the bottle too quickly..." There was silence, and then Puck said quietly,

"Let's just pretend we don't know what that means, and go about our merry lives." There were nods of fervent agreement, and then Tina said awkwardly,

"Should we leave? Might take our minds off the salad dressing."

"Yeah," said Wes, shaking his head as if to clear it. "There're only so many times I can comb my hair and tie my shoes."

"Okay, are we ready? We've done this before, so it shouldn't be too difficult," Rachel said, pacing up and down nervously. I could hear the guests assembled in the hall muttering to each other, and, if I peered through the crack in the door, I could see Blaine already standing at the alter – wearing pants, I should add.

"When have you lot been at a wedding?" David said, his foot tapping frantically.

"Mine and Kurt's parents wedding, back in our junior year," Finn said absently, looking the calmest out of everyone assembled, although he was passing the rings rapidly from hand to hand.

"So, we know our order, right?" Rachel said, still pacing. Tina nodded.

"Me and Mike, Puck and Lauren, Artie and Brittany, Sam and Quinn, Santana, Rachel and Wes, Mercedes and David, and then Finn with the rings." Rachel sighed happily.

"Isn't it just so romantic? That they're finally getting married, and it's going to be _such_ a beautiful ceremony!" David scoffed.

"Please, we knew _years_ ago that they were going to be married one day. The amount of times we caught Blaine looking up ways to write wedding vows was almost terrifying."

"We've come a long way, guys, haven't we?" Quinn said from where she was already lightly holding Sam's arm. "This time a few years ago, Kurt and Blaine wouldn't have even been _allowed_ to get married in Ohio, we're not all trying to either kill or have sex with each other, and we haven't been slushied in _years_."

"Life is good," Santana admitted, already clutching her basket of flowers. "Although, it'd admittedly be better if my dress wasn't riding up my-"

"Okay, guys, you need to start walking now," one of the ushers said, cutting Santana off mid-rant. Tina and Mike, leading the procession of groomsmen and bitches (honestly, _bitches_...) down the aisle, looked at each other for a long moment, before making their way through the open doors gracefully. As we started walking, David looked at me and grinned.

"You know, it's tradition for the best man and maid of honour to get together after a wedding."

"You're right," I said seriously, nodding. "I need to remind Wes." David glared at me and whacked me on the arm. "Don't hit me, David, I'm wearing cream."

"Oh, please," he whispered as we slowly made our way up the aisle. "Like wearing cream is an excuse."

"It is when Kurt will kill me if I get as much as a smudge on this dress. Now, stop talking to me, we're supposed to be looking sedate." David snorted, and waved subtly at one of the old Warblers – I didn't know any of the other Warblers, so I don't know his name. Oh. Apparently it was someone called Jeff. According to David.

As we got to the alter, Blaine turned subtly to smile at us both, looking a lot calmer than he had earlier. David and I split, me to stand with the other bridesmaids, David to stand with Wes behind Blaine, and I just caught sight of Finn walking down the aisle proudly, waving at various guests. He nodded and grinned at Blaine, standing behind him with Wes and David. There was a pause, and Blaine, who was now facing the front, seemed to be buzzing with anticipation. Then the doors opened.

It'd always been decided that Kurt would be the one to walk down the aisle. Blaine hardly even spoke to his dad anymore, and everyone knew that Burt wouldn't give up the chance to play protective dad one last time. What everyone had seemed to have forgotten, however, was how much Kurt _revelled_ at attention.

Wearing the traditional morning suit and top hat (and my boy was _working_ that hat) and carrying a bouquet of white roses, he was practically _skipping_ up the aisle, smiling radiantly at anyone and everyone. Burt, meanwhile, seemed to be holding his son's arm for dear life, almost as if he was stopping Kurt from running up the aisle to Blaine. Santana leaned towards me and whispered in my ear,

"I'm _so_ turned on by Kurt at the moment. And I haven't been properly attracted to a man in years." Rachel shushed her, and then subtly turned away to wipe her eyes. As I stepped forward to take Kurt's bouquet, I winked at him, and _then_ I saw that Kurt was just as nervous as Blaine had been when he'd come into our room pantless. I patted his arm encouragingly, and as Burt went to take his seat, Kurt took a deep, calming breath, and went to stand beside Blaine. I saw Blaine mouth 'wow' to Kurt, and Kurt smiled back shakily. There was silence again, and then I turned to Rachel.

"Where's the officiant? He was supposed to be here by now..." She shifted her feet awkwardly.

"Ah, yes, you see, the thing is..." The doors burst open, causing everyone to turn around.

"Sorry I'm late, people, but the traffic was awful. Oh, wait, no it wasn't, I just wanted to make my dramatic entrance."

"Oh, _hell no_," I said quietly as I watched Sue Sylvester make her way up the aisle. "Tell me you didn't." Rachel blinked owlishly.

"We... We didn't know _she_ would be doing it!" Kurt, whose jaw had dropped open at the sight of Sue, suddenly seemed to find his voice.

"Why are you here, and what did you do to our officiant?"

"Well, apparently your greasy haired officiant's stomach reacts badly to milk that is out of date by twelve days. Which is unfortunate, considering someone slipped it into his coffee when he was at a restaurant on Tuesday. So, being the caring person I am, I offered to fill in, and your friends said yes." Kurt turned towards us, looking like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream.

"Kurt, we didn't know she was offering to officiate herself!" Blaine put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and whispered in his ear, causing Kurt to stifle a giggle.

"Miss Sylvester, is it?" Blaine said politely.

"Mrs, actually."

"Right, Mrs Sylvester, are you legally capable of marrying Kurt and I?" She nodded.

"I got my license off the internet years ago." Blaine turned to Kurt, who just shrugged as if to say 'whatever'. Blaine nodded, before turning to Sue.

"Okay, thank you for offering. If you'd... uh... Like to make a start?" Sue clapped her hands.

"Excellent. Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

"Friends, countrymen, lend me your ears," she began; I caught Kurt's eye, and looked away before I would start to giggle.

"The step which these two men are about to take is the most important into which human beings can come. It is a union of two people founded upon mutual respect, affection and flamboyant sex." I heard Kurt sigh exasperatedly, and the tips of Finn's ears turned red. Sue turned to Kurt and Blaine and continued.

"Your lives will change, your responsibilities will increase, but your joys, both in and out of the marriage bed will be multiplied if you are sincere and earnest with your pledge to one another." I could see that Burt looked torn between laughter and getting out the trusty shotgun – there was no such dilemma on Carole's face, because she'd already started crying into a handkerchief. Sue turned to Blaine.

"Hobbit." Blaine winced. "Will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?" Blaine turned to Kurt with an expression of such wonder and awe on his face that I could feel myself start to well up; I felt Quinn press a handkerchief into my hand.

"I will," he said sincerely. Sue nodded, before turning to Kurt.

"Porcelain." Kurt rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face. "Will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?" I could only see the back of his head from my vantage point, but the expression on his face must have been something amazing, because all the guys on the opposite side suddenly felt the need to stare at their shoes, biting their lips.

"I will," Kurt said quietly, causing Blaine's face to spilt into a huge smile.

"Take hands and repeat after me," Sue said; they did so, Blaine still smiling widely.

"I, Hobbit,"

"I, _Blaine_," he said pointedly.

"Take you, Porcelain,"

"Take you, _Kurt,"_

"To be my wedded husband,"

"To be my wedded husband,"

"To have and to hold,"

"To have and to hold,"

"For better for worse,"

"For better for worse,"

"For richer for poorer,"

"For richer for poorer,"

"To love and to cherish, from this day forward."

"To love and to cherish, from this day forward." Sue turned to Kurt, who was glaring at her. She seemed to take the hint, because she said,

" I, Kurt," Kurt nodded and repeated,

"I, Kurt,"

"Take you, Blaine,"

"Take you, Blaine,"

"To be my wedded husband,"

"To be my wedded husband,"

"To have and to hold,"

"To have and to hold,"

"For better for worse,"

"For better for worse,"

"For richer for poorer,"

"For richer for poorer,"

"To love and to cherish, from this day forward."

"To love and to cherish, from this day forward." I caught sight of Mr Shue and Miss Pillsbury in the seats, both of them smiling and crying. In fact, I think everyone was either openly crying or trying to hide it, even Puck.

"Do you have a ring for the grooms?" Finn stepped forward and handed both Kurt and Blaine their respective rings before stepping back into his place, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. I swear, if Kurt hadn't been too busy getting married, he'd have gone _mental_. "Please place the ring on each other's finger and say: With this ring, I thee wed." Blaine gently lifted Kurt's hand first and said softly,

"With this ring, I thee wed." Now, I know my boy Kurt – he cries at the end of 'The Little Mermaid' every single time he watches it. So, there's no way he wasn't crying at that moment. Nevertheless, when he put the ring on Blaine's finger and said,

"With this ring, I thee wed," his voice was steady and clear. Sue sniffed, before saying,

"Let these rings be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity and fidelity to one another." Then she turned to the guests. "In as much as Kurt and Blaine have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company, and pledged their vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the Internet, I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss each other." The hall erupted into cheers as Blaine dipped Kurt into a kiss. However, when people realised that the kiss was going on for _ages_, and was starting to get a little handsy, we all coughed loudly, drawing them out of their self-indulged make-out.

I stepped forward to hand Kurt his bouquet back, and he leaned forward and whispered,

"How'd I do?"

"Brilliant, baby," I whispered back, drawing him into a tight hug. I turned to Blaine and pulled him into a hug, and then whispered,

"You hurt my baby, just so you know – I know how to cut a bitch."

* * *

Well, we're here. David is back in the writer's chair, children of Klaine, ready to write about the epicness that is My Grand Plan.

**What, the wedding reception?**

No. But I will write about that. I'm not going to leave my best man speech out of the Chronicle, am I? But, it occurs to me, as I have already got a paper copy of My Grand Plan

**Must it be capitalised?**

Yes. As I already have a paper copy of it, I can simply stick it into the end of the Chronicles once we print it off. Okay. Moving on to the reception.

* * *

We first realised there would be a problem when the music started for Kurt and Blaine's first dance – the instrumental version of 'Come What May', of course. Traditionally, what follows next is the Father/Daughter dance – or, in this case, the Burt/Kurt dance. No, the problem was that it was very difficult to do the Mother/Son dance when said son's parents refused to speak to him. When I mentioned so much to Rachel, she stared at me in horror, and mouthed things such as 'bitch' and other such blasphemous words. Luckily, Mercedes overheard, took me by the hand, and dragged me off to where Burt and Carole were sitting.

"Burt, Carole, we've got a problem. Blaine's mom isn't here – how are we supposed to do the Mother/Son dance?" Burt shrugged, and Carole bit her lip.

"Well, if Blaine doesn't think I'm imposing, I'd be more than happy to fill in – I think of him like my own son, so it'd be a privilege for me to dance with him." Mercedes looked at me.

"Yeah, he'd love that. He did say he preferred you two to his own parents anyway, so..." As the song drew to a close, Kurt looked expectantly towards Burt, and we all saw the dawning resignation in Blaine's face when he realised he'd have to sit down. Burt and Carole both stood up, and as Carole made her way over to Blaine and whispered to him, I saw his face light up in happiness, before he nodded ecstatically. Mercedes sighed happily as she watched them dance and took my arm.

"I want my wedding to be like this. And I want to love my in-laws this much."

"My parents like you," I said absently, causing Mercedes to look at me in confusion.

"Isn't this great?" Puck said happily, bounding over and throwing an arm around both of us. I guessed he was already making his way to being drunk. "All of us, together again, watching the happy couple doing the pre-sex ritual... So romantic."

"Puckerman, you've just taken one of the most romantic things in the world and turned it into sex. I don't know whether to be horrified or impressed."

"Hey, David," Puck said, ignoring Mercedes. "Aren't you supposed to be announcing the speeches?"

"Yeah... In fact, I'd best go get ready for that now." I waved to Mercedes, who was glaring at me for leaving her with Puck, and made my way to the table. I didn't need cue cards, as I knew my speech by heart, the amount of times I'd run through it, so as everyone slowly made their own way to the table, I was able to concentrate on people watching.

All of the former New Directions were sat at the Head Table with Wes and I, Burt and Carole and the happy couple, laughing and throwing napkins at each other. Wes was engaged in deep conversation with Burt – probably about sport – while Carole looked on fondly. Kurt and Blaine, meanwhile, were just looking at the table, huge smiles on their faces – I saw Kurt subtly pinch his own arm, followed swiftly by Blaine repeating the action. I tapped my fork on my glass.

"Ladies and Gentleman, if I could have your attention please?" Slowly, everyone stopped their conversations and turned their heads towards me. "Thank you. It is my great pleasure and honor to introduce the first of our speakers tonight, Burt Hummel, father of the groom." There was a long applause as Burt stood up, with the occasional cheer from the New Directions end of the table. Burt turned to Kurt and Blaine, and started to speak.

"When I first laid eyes on my son, I knew, straight away, that he was my boy, and I'd love him no matter what. And sure, we had our ups and downs, but what I see before me today is not my little boy, but a man – a man who's ready to settle down and raise a family of his own.

Both Kurt and Blaine have come a long way from when they first met each other, and it's with open arms that I welcome Blaine into the Hudmel family. Sure, we're dysfunctional, we have our moments, but I think it's true that Blaine will always be seen as one of us from now on. So, I'd like to lead you in raising your glasses to the happy couple. To my son, Kurt, and his husband Blaine!"

"To Kurt and Blaine!" Came the resounding cheer in reply, before everyone clapped and took swigs of their champagne. Once the applause had died down, and Kurt had managed to compose himself, Finn stood up, and grinned at them both.

"Okay, as one of the best men, it's kind of my duty to make a speech but, as you're all probably aware, me and speaking don't go very well, so I'll keep this brief... Kurt is, pretty much, my little brother, even if he is older than me, so I'm so proud that he's married happily to the guy he used to spend days swooning over in his bedroom." There were disloyal sniggers from certain members of the audience, and Kurt glared at Finn. "So... I'll be honest, I didn't really _prepare_ a speech, because I knew there were two other best men to follow... Um, a toast to the happy couple?" He questioned, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing. Fortunately, the guests responded cheerfully, and toasted Kurt and Blaine again.

"Well," Wes said, standing up. "I don't really have much to say either that isn't about to be echoed by David in a few minutes. But I'd just like to say that without Kurt and Blaine, I'd have never met many of the amazing people you see here today, so I'd not only like to toast to their happiness, but I'd also like to thank them, for introducing me to some of the best friends I've ever made." Wes raised his glass, and the guests followed suit. This was it. My big moment.

"I knew, being the last best man to make his speech, that it'd have to be long, because Finn and Wes would bank on me doing a longer speech. So, I thought long and hard about the message I wanted to get across. And I think I've found the perfect way to illuminate the love I think Kurt and Blaine feel for each other." I turned to Kurt and Blaine and said, sincerely,

"Kurt, before you met Blaine, he was a wreck. Things were kind of heavy, and then you brought him to life. Now every February you'll be his Valentine, Valentine. Although, Blaine, that doesn't mean you can chase Kurt around the Gap. At all." I knew I couldn't look at Wes or Finn, because I could feel them shaking with laughter either side of me, and, as best man, it was imperative for me to maintain a straight face through my speech.

"You could go all the way tonight – note the word 'tonight', because we don't want you getting into the habit of married PDA. There will be no regrets, just love. You can dance until you die, Kurt and Blaine, you'll be young forever." I suddenly caught sight of Kurt, who was frantically writing on a napkin in… Was that gravy?

"Kurt, you make Blaine feel like he's living a teenage dream, the way you turn him on, he doesn't sleep. But please, don't runaway, and come back, because I don't think we can cope if you leave…" Kurt hurriedly held up his napkin, which had 'Provide Backing!' hastily scrawled across it. I nudged Wes and Finn as Kurt stood up and started to sing. Fortunately, Blaine drilled 'Teenage Dream' permanently into all of the Warbler's heads, and New Directions had the spooky ability of being able to provide backing vocals to any and every song.

"Let's go all the way tonight  
No regrets, just love  
We can dance until we die  
You and I, we'll be young forever," Kurt pulled Blaine out of his seat, onto the dance floor and started spinning them both around gracefully as he sang.

"You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream  
The way you turn me on, I can't sleep  
Let's runaway and don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back." In a move that he would never have normally performed in front of a huge crowd of people, Kurt grabbed both of Blaine's hands and put them on his ass, drawing cheers from all the New Directions and Warblers present.

"I'ma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans  
Be your teenage dream tonight" Blaine grinned at Kurt, and leaned his forehead against Kurt's before singing softly,

"You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream  
The way you turn me on, I can't sleep  
Let's runaway and don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back" Both of them looked like they were torn between laughter and tears as they joined together in perfect, awe inducing harmony. If it had been anyone else, I'd have found it somewhat sickening. As it was Klaine, I could feel myself welling up.

"My heart stops when you look at me  
Just one touch, now baby I believe  
This is real, so take a chance  
And don't ever look back, don't ever look back" And then, in an amazingly Disney like manner, all of the guests stood up, joined hands and belted out the last verse.

"I'ma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans  
Be your teenage dream tonight  
Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans  
Be your teenage dream tonight."

* * *

…**David, are you **_**crying**_**?**

No.

**Mercedes agrees with me – you're **_**crying**_**.**

Shut up.

* * *

"Guys, Blaine's about to toss the bouquet!" Kurt said, coming over to where a large group of us was stood. As most of the girls left, Lauren rolled her eyes.

"This whole aspect of a wedding is desperate, pathetic, and not at all worthy of my attention." I looked at her shrewdly.

"You're still going to try to catch the bouquet, aren't you?"

"Obviously." I grinned after her as she hurried to where the steadily growing crowd was gathering by Blaine, before turning to Kurt.

"Why's Blaine tossing the bouquet?" He shrugged.

"He wanted to. Something about 'sharing bridal responsibilities'. And no, before you ask, neither of us is wearing a garter." There was a sudden cheer as the bouquet flew up into the air, before a collective groan as it landed in a somewhat surprised Mercedes's arms. She looked around the room in shock, before catching my eye and shrugging. Kurt looked at me for a minute, before saying,

"Look, David, would you just ask her out already? You're not teenagers."

"Huh? I don't know what you're…" He sighed and held up a hand.

"David, I'm a gay man. Trust me when I say I'm more in tune with feelings than the average male."

"Isn't that stereotyping?"

"Possibly. And don't change the subject."

Now, whether I did ask Mercedes out or not, whilst a riveting story, is not necessary in 'The Chronicles of Klaine'. 'The Mavid Diaries', perhaps. So, moving on.

"David," Wes said. "Why are you holding a huge book and a pen?" I gestured to the book.

"It's all part of the plan. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find Artie."

* * *

**Author's Note: The next chapter will be uploaded fairly soon, to apologize for how long this one took. This one is actually the **_**second**_** copy of this chapter, because the first one was a bit crap. And when I say 'bit crap', that is a euphemism for 'my eyes bled extensively from the sheer magnitude of awful'.**


	15. Perspective

**Author's Note: Writing this whilst listening to the Starship soundtrack. Life doesn't get much better.**

**Disclaimer: I own as much of this as I own of Starship. (Yes, I am a bit obsessed with Starship at the moment. But I mean, really, who isn't?)**

* * *

_Alright, everyone, this is fairly simple – it is called 'Klaine From 100 Perspectives'. Or, you know, 24 perspectives, because that's how many people I interviewed. I've written your name and your relation to the grooms, so all you have to do is write about Kurt and Blaine to their children. Tell Kurt or Blaine about this on pain of death._

_David_

* * *

_Artie Abrams_

_Former New Direction and groomsman at the wedding_

"I have a piece of wisdom for you, kids.

Never challenge your parents to a game of COD. I don't know how they do it, but they cheat. They must do, because they are _unbeatable_.

Aside from that, your parents are cool – we're brothers from other mothers. Well, they're cool _now_ – I've never met a cool parent, although Burt Hummel comes close. So, if you're lucky, Burt's coolness might be genetic – although, if coolness _is_ genetic, that means Blaine will be lacking in that department...

If they do become uncool, either of them, don't worry – we're here for you, and can tell you lots of embarrassing stories about them."

* * *

_Becky Jackson_

_Former Cheerio_

"Coach says that any of you can join the Cheerios, as long as you haven't inherited Blaine's steel wool he calls hair."

* * *

_Brittany Pierce_

_Former New Direction, Cheerio and 'bitch' at the wedding_

"Dear Klaine Calves (that's what you call baby dolphins. Artie told me.)

I love your parents very much. Kurt, because he's my ex-boyfriend, and Blaine because he is secretly Harry Potter."

* * *

_Burt Hummel_

_Father of the groom (Kurt) and all kinds of awesome_

"Grandchildren,

Don't tell either of your dads this, but I'm planning on spoiling you. To death. As, you know, a granddad should.

Now, any grandsons I may have, you're required to spend a summer at the shop – don't get me wrong, I love my son, but he won't necessarily teach you everything you need to know about cars. He'll _say_ he's taught you everything, but he won't have.

And any granddaughters – bring future boyfriends to see me. Blaine managed to face me and my shotgun, so any boyfriends you have can, too."

* * *

_Carole Hudson_

_Stepmother of the groom (Kurt) and, again, all kinds of awesome_

"Dearest Grandchildren,

I know that Kurt and Blaine are likely to provide me with my first grandchildren because, as you may know, Finn was convinced up until junior year that you could get pregnant from being in a hot tub. So, even though you won't genetically be my grandchildren, I'll still treat you like my own.

I realise that Burt has probably threatened any future boyfriends with the shotgun. Don't listen to him, he's still sulking because Blaine didn't run away crying when he started polishing it in front of him. True, Blaine did go very pale and refused to say anything other than 'Yes, ma'am' or 'No thank you, sir', but he didn't run. And that's what counts. So, obviously, we knew we had to keep Blaine around. Because Kurt hadn't had the best lot in life before he'd met Blaine, and whenever Blaine was around Kurt had this energy about him.

Plus there's the fact that I was planning your parents wedding long before either of them had any inkling they wanted to propose."

* * *

_David Thomas_

_Former Warbler, best man at the wedding and generally awesome best friend of Blaine and Kurt_

"Dear Klaine Children,

You all know my thoughts on your parents. I've told you often enough how moronic I found their attempts to get together.

Yet, when you get past the stalking, and the serenading, and the general mania, what Blaine and Kurt have is something very rare, and incredibly special. You couldn't have two better role models to teach you about love.

...Well, that's as sappy as I'm going to get, I'm afraid. I need to go do manly things. Like hotwire a car. I don't actually know how to do that, and I'm certainly not condoning that sort of behaviour. I might just go play Grand Theft Auto."

* * *

_Emma Pillsbury_

_Former guidance counsellor at McKinley and Kurt's personal Bambi_

"Hello, children of Kurt and Blaine,

After Kurt threw up on my shoes (if he ever shouts out you for drinking alcohol, just bring that incident up in conversation), I was convinced that I would avoid Kurt Hummel at all costs. However, after the incidents of his junior year persuaded me that maybe Kurt wasn't such a horrific person after all. On the contrary, I came to see him as a very courageous young man. Nevertheless, I was never going to let him near my shoes again.

I didn't meet Blaine until much later, when Kurt came back to McKinley for a visit as an adult, and brought Blaine with him. It was obvious, even to Will (who is notoriously oblivious to affection), that Kurt was besotted with young Blaine, and Blaine perhaps even more so with Kurt. So, of course, I was delighted when they told us that they were getting married, and wanted all of Kurt's favourite teachers to attend.

I wish your parents all the best, and would like to remind them that there are a lot of germs on unwashed fruit. I may have a handle of my OCD now, but there's no disputing that fact."

* * *

_Finn Hudson_

_Former New Direction, best man at the wedding and stepbrother of Kurt_

"Dear Nephews, Nieces, and any third gender relatives that may have been created,

As your uncle (a real one, as opposed to what David and Wes are going to deem themselves) (well, I say 'real'. More real than them.) (Now, where was I? Oh, yeah.)

As your uncle, it is my job to be cool, as opposed to your parents, who are going to be uncool. So, you have my permission to hold house parties when your parents aren't at home. You can also ask me for money whenever you want. I'm not promising I'll _give _you anything, but you're more than welcome to ask."

* * *

_Jeff Gray_

_Former Warbler_

"I'd just like to clarify; I didn't _mean_ to call your dad 'Quite Pretty Kurt'. For a guy, he was quite pretty, but David and Wes just blew it all out of proportion. I mean, really, there was no need to send me a singing wedding invitation to the 'Matrimony of Hobbit Blaine and Quite Pretty Kurt'. My wife now thinks I go to some sort of nerdy fetish club.

Oh, advice for you... Don't ever call a guy 'quite pretty'. It _will_ come back to haunt you."

* * *

_Lauren Zizes_

_Former New Direction and 'bitch' at the wedding_

"I feel it my duty to tell you, as a badass who doesn't follow conventions, that your parents didn't wait until marriage to 'do the deed'. Sure, they never exactly _told_ us when they had sex, but we knew. It was while they were visiting Lima, and the morning after Kurt had this huge, smug smirk on his face, and Blaine looked like he had been hit over the head with a baseball bat.

And, even if those subtle hints hadn't been enough, Finn rang all of us up the night before, screaming at the top of his lungs some ramble about his 'baby brother' and 'going to kill that gelled tosser'. It was pretty obvious what they were up to.

So, if your parents _ever_ bring up the 'wait until marriage' line, just say what we could all hear in the background on the phone – 'Kurt, damn it, undo the knot, what if Finn walks in? Or your _dad_?' 'I'm _trying_!'"

* * *

_Mercedes Jones_

_Former New Direction, maid of honor at the wedding and best friend of Kurt_

Auntie Mercedes here!

'Sup. I've known your parents since their awkward 'oh, we're totally just best friends, we just like staring at each other's faces' phase. Pfft. Sure. So, if you've got any questions about them, I'll be more than happy to help. Like the time Kurt spent three hours eating ice cream because Blaine told him he didn't like the latest 'Vogue' cover. And then spent the next four hours moaning about all the saturated fat he had just consumed.

Likewise, if you've got any questions about relationships, don't go to either of your parents. It took lots of spying, singing and stalking for your parents to get together, and we all acknowledge that these methods aren't exactly practical when it comes to wooing people. We were all just fortunate that Kurt liked romance, and Blaine seemed to have been jettisoned from the fifties.

I'm expecting to see you pretty much all the time anyway – and if I don't, I'll turn up at random intervals, so you'll never quite know when to expect me. Sorry, it's the spy training in me."

* * *

_Mike Chang_

_Former New Direction and groomsman at the wedding_

"Dear children,

There is one gene you need to pray you've received from Kurt, and not from Blaine – the dancing gene. Yes, it is indeed genetic, it has been scientifically proven.

Kurt, when dancing, is hypnotic, and I can say this as a straight dancer myself. I'm impressed, and I've got _killer_ moves. Blaine, however... let's just say it took the whole of New Directions three weeks to teach him the dance to 'Single Ladies'. So now, both of your parents can do it. Get them to give you a demonstration.

Although, in all fairness, Blaine can waltz, which Kurt can't do. But really, I think the only couple I see trying to waltz nowadays is Blaine and Kurt (or 'Klaine', as David is telling me)."

* * *

_Nick Bradley_

_Former Warbler_

"I'm still not entirely sure why I was invited to the wedding. We were friends at school, but we haven't spoken in years. I'm really happy that they got in touch, but I can't shake the feeling that I was invited because Jeff was invited, and I know the only reason Jeff was invited was because David wanted to send a singing telegram to him.

I won't complain, though. Your parents, children, are awesome, and there was free cake. So, my advice? Accept any wedding invitations you may get in the future, because it's a chance for free cake."

* * *

_Noah 'Puck' Puckerman_

_Former New Direction and groomsman at the wedding_

"Okay, first of all, I want to apologise, again, for the number of times I threw your dad in the dumpster. I was in with a bad crowd, which I know is no excuse, but I like to think I've grown up a lot in the last few years.

Your parents taught me what it meant to be 'badass'. Being badass isn't about throwing drinks at people, or tossing them into dumpsters, or nailing their lawn furniture to the roof (again, apologies for that. I'm still waiting for the revenge for that, so if you could put in a good word for me, that'd be great). It's about standing up for what you believe in, even when everyone else hates you for it. It's about having the guts to love who you love, in spite of their faults – _because_ of their faults. And it's about being able to dance incredibly in ten-inch heels. Because really, even _I_ can't do that. And I'm hot."

* * *

_Quinn Fabray_

_Former New Direction, Cheerio and 'bitch' at the wedding_

"Children,

I'm so happy that Kurt and Blaine have got married – not only because it gave me a chance to be some form of a bridesmaid, but because out of all of the couples of New Directions, they were the one couple I really wanted to go the distance. Sure, other McKinley couples went all the way, and new ones are starting now (according to Wes the latest one is 'Mavid', which I just find incredibly adorable), but Klaine (thanks, David!) was definitely the couple I supported.

So, as the most popular girl at McKinley High, I wish to bestow my wisdom unto you. Join Glee Club. Not the Cheerios. Sue Sylvester (who will inevitably revive the Cheerios and coach it till death) will _remove your soul_."

* * *

_Rachel Berry_

_Former New Direction, matron of honor at the wedding, and general nuisance_

"As the only person your parents know who is the child of two dads, I feel I am the most qualified person here to give you advice.

Being a performer, like me, is a tough, lonely road, yet with Kurt and Blaine as your dads, I really can't see you aspiring to too much else. Because, let's be honest, that's the only guaranteed talent you're going to get, singing. You might be really unlucky, and inherit Blaine's dancing ability, Kurt's inability to be deliberately sexy and their overall awkwardness in relationships. But at least you'll be able to sing.

Granted, you won't be able to sing as well as me, but, for a small fee, I'm willing to give you lessons. We will be doing a medley of Broadway classics, and the first lesson will involve a tutorial in the best method in which to sing to your reflection. I will give you a taster now.

First, you have to make sure there is a good light source in your room, because you want to be able to see your face whilst serenading. Next, you'll need a hairbrush – make sure it's suitably de-haired, because there's nothing worse than accidentally getting a hair in your mouth whilst belting the high F.

Now, put on a suitable karaoke track in the background – preferably something from Broadway, but any of the classic ballads are suitable here. Make sure you really _know_ the music, because there is nothing more humiliating than missing your cue. Of course, it's more convenient to have your own personal pianist (I recommend Brad), but I understand that this is not a viable option for everyone.

On a side note, I'll take the time now to remind you that you really need your own privacy. Preferably, your own bedroom, with sound proofed walls.

More props you may be in need of, as a suggestion, may be a telephone, for those romantic 'missing you' ballads; a notepad, to subtly write your feelings on whilst expressing yourself verbally; a guitar, to soulfully strum away (I'll admit, I don't actually play guitar, but no one needs to know this)...

Oh. Apparently, according to David, I've 'written too much already'. Please, this is just the beginning. He obviously doesn't appreciate my talent. It's okay. I know when I'm not wanted."

* * *

_Sam Evans_

_Former New Direction and groomsman at the wedding_

"Mine and Kurt's friendship, kids, started off a bit awkwardly. His gaydar apparently went off whenever I was around – I can't really blame it, because I was dyeing my hair – and as such, Kurt was convinced I was another guy gay. Once we got over that obstacle, however, Kurt became a good friend of mine – mainly because he came over to my house to teach me to cook.

Blaine also immediately thought I was gay, but he only told me this recently. Apparently, it was the hair. Again. So, my advice, boy children of Klaine, is not to dye your hair blonde, because it screws up people's gaydar, which isn't very nice."

* * *

_Santana Lopez_

_Former New Direction, Cheerio and flower girl at the wedding_

"Kids,

My previous entry got removed, because _apparently_ kids don't want to hear about how I 'desperately want a threesome with their parents'. I don't '_desperately_' want a threesome at all – it's just a suggestion, in case they're ever interested.

So, you want to hear about your parents? They were horny little bitches when they were younger, and probably still are now – I don't see them on a day-to-day basis anymore, so when I do see them they rein in their burning need to get in each others' pants. There was a lot of eye-sex in public places. But, getting past all the frequent sex they were probably having, they were alright. I even kind of liked them. Which was an achievement in itself, because I hated everyone in New Directions. Maybe it was because they were Warblers."

* * *

_Shannon Beiste_

_Former Football Coach at McKinley_

"When I started coaching the McKinley football team, the guys still spoke in hushed whispers of the legendary 'Hummel', who won them their first game in years. I'll admit, I thought they were talking about Burt. It was only when I asked Will about the Glee kids, and he mentioned that Kurt played on the team briefly, that I put two and two together and realised that Kurt, the boy that half of the football team were throwing into dumpsters daily, was the legendary 'Hummel'.

So, I guess my message to you is don't limit yourself to stereotypes. Kurt could have chosen to be the walking guy stereotype, but he broke away from that – he played football, he fixed cars and, as the stories go, apparently wore flannel. But that's a story for him to tell you."

* * *

_Sue Sylvester_

_Kurt's former cheer coach and officiator at the wedding_

"Dear Porcelain and Head Hobbit of Gay Hogwarts' Children,

While I thought I had successfully infiltrated what has been deemed 'The Wedding Party Of The Year', I was unfortunately accosted by that boy with a head like a billiard ball. As recompense I, one Sue Sylvester, was forced to write a message to the so called 'happy couple's children about their parents.

Although I never really knew your Hobbit father – he slipped under my radar, being so short – your Porcelain father was my favourite Cheerio, for a number of reasons. Firstly, he won me Nationals, back before my now world famous decline. Secondly, he wasn't ever likely to get blow up boobs that would explode in the simplest manoeuvres. Finally, he never got pregnant. Or, if he did, he kept it very quiet."

* * *

_Thad Martin_

_Former Warbler Council Member_

"Congratulations, Warbler Children,

You are part of an extraordinary legacy – with two ex-Warblers as parents, there is no doubt that you too, someday, will become Warblers. Unless you're girls. In which case, any attempts at joining the Warblers will be seen as mockery. But I digress.

Being a Warbler is a responsibility as much as it is a privilege. It requires hard work, commitment, and an ability to keep a straight face if you happen to be singing at an old person's home, and one person's false teeth have been spat at a fellow Warbler. That last clause was added because of Kurt and the Fairside Nursing Home Debacle. You should be so proud.

If you do decide to become Warblers – and really, there's no reason you shouldn't – go onto our website, where a full list of terms and conditions await."

* * *

_Tina Cohen-Chang_

_Former New Direction and 'bitch' at the wedding_

"Children,

I'll admit it. I didn't initially support 'Klaine' – it had to grow on me. In fact – and I never told anyone this – I was still rooting for Sam to realise he was gay. So, I suppose you could say I was a 'Hevans' supporter. Believe me, trying to find a couple name for those two is incredibly difficult.

However, when I saw Kurt and Blaine together, properly together, for the first time, I was converted. Seeing Kurt that happy was enough to convince me that Blaine was right for him. So, if your dads' managed to convert me to 'Klaine', I can safely say that they're going to be together for a long time. Possibly forever. But let's not get Kurt started on any religious debate, shall we?"

* * *

_Wes Leung_

_Former Warbler Council Member, best man at the wedding and generally less awesome best friend of David_

"I resent that introduction, David.

So, Klainelings, David told me that I needed to provide some sort of a conclusion – which doesn't really make sense, because somebody called 'Will Schuester' is writing after me. Never mind.

Overall, then, we seem to have proved that your parents are going to be excellent role models. We also can see, here, that everyone who knows Kurt and Blaine seems to be an avid supporter of 'Klaine'. Which probably means something really deep and cool, but I think David and Puck spiked the punch again, so I can't really think straight.

Well, if you've got any questions about your parents, ask any of the names you see in here. Trust us, we have _loads_ of embarrassing stories."

* * *

_Will Schuester_

_Spanish teacher and former director of New Directions _

"Dear children,

Being a part of a Glee Club – New Directions, The Warblers, Aural Intensity (maybe not Vocal Adrenaline) teaches a person a lot about love, respect and trust. It shows you a part of yourself that you didn't know existed – whether it was the softer side of Puck, the confident side of Tina, or the, well, gay side of Kurt – and helps you to accept that as a part of yourself.

So, if I were to give you any advice, it would be to join a club. I recommend New Directions."

* * *

**So, David, you satisfied? We typed this w****hole thing up.**

I am.

**I'm confused though. Why were so many people giving the Klaine children advice? Or giving advertisements for their clubs?**

I don't know. I think you just feel compelled to do it, you know? Impart your wisdom on the younger generation. Either that or people are convinced that they're going to be godparents to these children. Which is ridiculous. We all know I'm going to be godfather.

**Pfft, you? If it's not me, it's blatantly going to be Finn.**

Dear God, it's the Best Man Fisticuffs all over again.

'**Fisticuffs'? I'm surprised you're not challenging me to a mid-morning duel.**

* * *

**Author's Note: Guess who's going to Glee Live, guys? So chuffing excited, you have no idea! If any of you do happen to go on the same day as me (London, 30th June), I'll see you there! AAAHHHH!**

**Anyway, moving on... There will be one more chapter after this (the epilogue), and then this'll be finished. Because otherwise, I'd end up writing this forever, with chapters such as 'Kurt and Blaine try to choose suitable life insurance' and 'Races in mobility scooters'. And that'd just be getting a bit silly, really.**


	16. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Uh... Apologies about how long this took. I've had the idea for **_**ages**_** (since about the third chapter, actually, and a lot of you predicted it. Hooray for obvious plot endings!) and it's been half done on my computer for at least a week, but life just got in the way...**

**Anyway, moving on. It's the last one, guys! Thank you so much for all your **_**lovely**_** messages and reviews! (I'll carry on with my love fest later; you probably want to get on with reading)**

**Disclaimer – Yes, we're all well aware that I don't own Glee. But that's okay. I can accept that.**

* * *

Wes knocked on the door, carefully adjusting the mountain of parcels under his arm as he listened to the frantic running and yelling coming from inside the house. Eventually, a very worn out looking Blaine answered the door, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Wes, you're early. Why're you early? Never mind, come in. Kurt's just trying to get Alex to wear his diaper. He's reached the stage where he's realised that if he runs off, Kurt can't put it on." Blaine sighed ruefully and stepped aside, allowing Wes to shuffle in.

"David here yet?" Blaine shook his head, and then shouted up the stairs,

"_Elizabeth_! Downstairs, now!" There was an irritated shriek from upstairs, followed by the sound of stamping feet across the hall and stairs.

"Dad, don't _call_ me that! It makes me sound like an old – oh, hi, Uncle Wes, are those all for me?" She pointed excitedly at the presents under Wes's arm.

"Of course, I have to spoil my favorite goddaughter."

"I'm your _only_ goddaughter." But she took the parcels from him and practically skipped into the sitting room. She weaved her way gracefully around the still diaper-free Alex, who had come running into the hall at the sound of voices.

"Uncle Wes!" He held out his arms expectantly.

"Sorry, little man, I'm not picking you up, you might pee on me again."

"Alex, where's Daddy Kurt? And your brother, for that matter?" Blaine asked. Alex just shrugged, his arms still spread wise. He was staring at Wes with a glare that he had obviously learnt from Kurt.

"Well, I'm here, and I think Mark's still sleeping. Hi, Wes," Kurt said, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway, waving a diaper like it was a weapon. Alex squealed in excitement and took off at a run; Blaine sighed.

"Honestly, that boy... _Mark_!" He almost marched up the stairs, and Kurt grinned tiredly at Wes.

"Sorry about this. We were hoping no one would come early, because we'd planned to be all sitting serenely in the sitting room like a normal family when people arrived. Instead, you're greeted by a naked child, a sleeping child, and a child who'd _better not be opening her birthday presents_!" He shouted the latter part, and it was followed by a guilty splutter from the sitting room. Kurt shrugged. "Well, you're not the only early one – Finn and Rachel are already here; go make yourself comfortable while I attempt to clothe my son." He took off at a run up the stairs, leaving Wes to go into the sitting room.

"Uncle Wes," Lizzie said promptly as soon as she caught sight of him. "Not that I know what you've got me, but thank you for the new straighteners – mine _sucked_. And thank you for the books. And the sweets. And the new bag. And-"

"Dude, we tried to stop her opening presents, but she's like some sort of _demon_," Finn said from the sofa, where Rachel was curled up against his shoulder.

"No problem, Lizzie," Wes said. "Oh, and when David _finally_ gets here, we can give you our joint present." Rachel scoffed.

"Now you know exactly how we feel, Wesley. We've been here for _hours_."

"That's because you were convinced that we'd been invited to come over at ten." Finn looked at Wes exasperatedly. "I mean, really, who invites people over at ten? But Rachel was adamant, so we came for just before ten. And ended up sat on the doorstep for an hour, because everyone was asleep and couldn't hear us when we rang the doorbell."

"Dads' weren't asleep," Lizzie said, still staring longingly at her presents.

"What were they doing, then, and why the hell didn't they open the door?" Rachel slapped Finn on the shoulder.

"Finn, mind your language! We're _guests_." Meanwhile, Lizzie's cheeks had gone pink, and she was giving Finn a look that plainly said 'Don't ask questions, I don't want to talk about this.'

"They were getting down and dirty," Mark supplied helpfully, shuffling into the sitting room and rubbing his face in a very Blaine way.

"Yeah, I'm definitely sure you shouldn't know what that is," Finn said, looking to Rachel fir support, who was too preoccupied with smothering her laughter. Mark just sighed.

"I'm _thirteen_, Uncle Finn, you seem to forget that. Liz, are you planning to open your presents any time soon? Only I want to go back to bed, but Dad told me I had to at least _pretend_ to tolerate your presence today."

"Mark, be nice to your sister, it's her birthday," Kurt said, hauling a now fully clothed Alex into the room over his shoulder. Mark just rolled his eyes. "Anyone heard from David and Mercedes? Dad and Carole want us over before eight tonight, so I need to finish packing."

"David just texted me," Blaine said, walking into the room and waving his phone around like a mad man. "They're supposedly a few minutes away. Which, in David language, means they should be here right-" the doorbell rang. "Now." Blaine walked back out to answer the door, and then voices drifted into the room.

"...Traffic was _awful_-"

"That's because you hit an animal."

"You have no proof of that."

"Why, because the animal is now unidentifiable due to its remains resembling a smear on our tyres as opposed to a living thing?"

"Precisely. Happy birthday, Lizzie!" David walked in breezily, followed by Mercedes, who was struggling with a huge pile of parcels. Kurt scowled at David, before going to help Mercedes with the teetering pile.

"David, why have you left Mercedes to carry all the presents in? And was it necessary to buy _that_ much – we spoil her enough as it is."

"Mercedes lost our bet, so she got to carry the presents in. I won, so-"

"David, if this is anything to do with S-E-X, don't say it now." There was an awkward pause, and then Mark said coolly,

"We can all _spell_, Dad."

"What's sex?" Alex asked promptly. Kurt sighed.

"Yes, _Blaine_, explain to our son what you just spelt."

"I'll tell you when you're married." Kurt just rolled his eyes at Blaine's response before standing up.

"Do any of you want anything to drink?" There were various grunts of approval. Lizzie was preoccupied with the new bracelet Mark had supposedly bought her – Kurt was the one who had actually spent money – Mercedes was whispering furiously in David's ear, Mark was staring into space, Rachel was attempting to get Finn to promise to take her to see 'Wicked' again, and Blaine was just watching the scenario bemusedly.

"Was that supposed to be a positive response from all of you? Because, you know, none of you actually gave me an idea of what you'd like to drink." Nobody responded, so Kurt sighed, frustrated. "Fine. You're all getting prune juice mixed with protein shake."

"Are you still trying to get through that protein shake?" Mercedes said, turning to look at Kurt. He shook his head exasperatedly.

"We think she got us a subscription. It arrives by the case every month, and the delivery guys refuse to take it back. I'd consider writing to her, but I don't think a letter would get through addressed to 'Sue Sylvester, The Depths Of Cheerleading Hell'. Blaine, could you help me with the drinks?" They both walked out of the sitting room, and Mark raised his eyebrows.

"'Come help me with the drinks'... _Blatant_ euphemism."

"Lizzie," David said, producing a surreptitiously hidden parcel from under his sweater. "Present from me and Wes." Mercedes coughed. "Mercedes helped a bit, too. Sort of. Don't show your parents."

"Is it rude?" Lizzie said excitedly, shaking the box shaped parcel and listening for any rattling.

"Not really-"

"There were a few swear words," Wes pointed out, to which David nodded.

"Don't open it yet. Go hide it somewhere, and look at it later."

* * *

"_Dear God, it's the Best Man Fisticuffs all over again._

'_**Fisticuffs'? I'm surprised you're not challenging me to a mid-morning duel.**_"

Lizzie turned the page, half expecting a new chapter, more information – _something_. This... book, for lack of a more appropriate term, had taught her a lot about her parents. How they did, indeed, used to be quite awesome, and how they had all these really cool friends. It had made her laugh, cheer and, occasionally, cry. Granted, there was rather a lot more singing than she was accustomed to from regular people, but she gathered that that was just the 'Glee Effect'. As a matter of fact, this book was actually making her seriously consider joining her own school's Glee club next year.

However, Uncle Wes and Uncle David's Chronicles had just finished, and she wasn't entirely sure what to do with all of this information. Publish it? Read it as a bedtime story to Alex? Show her friends? Lizzie flicked through the remaining pages aimlessly and, on one of the very back pages, came across a hastily scrawled note, in horrendous handwriting.

"Lizzie," the note began.

"As the eldest Klaine child, we solemnly bequeath the Chronicles of Klaine to you. It is your duty to record the happenings of Kurt and Blaine for future generations, so their story never dies.

Uncle David and Wes

(Oh, and P.S. – you have to show Alex too (because I bet Mark's reading over your shoulder as you're reading this)" Lizzie looked up and, sure enough, Mark was stood next to her, grinning sheepishly. She sighed and continued to read. "But you don't necessarily have to let him write in it. Though that'd probably be a good idea, because you're not going to live at home forever. Actually, none of you are, but Alex is going to be around for at least another fifteen years.)

* * *

Mark, are you sure typing it up isn't cheating?

**Lizzie, Uncle Wes and Uncle David used a computer. People's handwriting doesn't normally look like that. Plus your handwriting is shocking.**

Oh. Yeah, that's a good point... I don't know what we should write about, you know?

**Me neither... Hey, what about that time...**

* * *

"Eggs?" Kurt said, holding said eggs in the air questioningly. Blaine shook his head.

**I still don't understand why you get to do the writing. And why're you calling Dads by their actual names?**

Because I'm older, and it's my birthday. And in case you've forgotten, we have two Dads, so calling them both 'Dad' would just confuse everyone involved.

"Kurt, we get through so many eggs, we might as well just _buy_ a chicken," said Blaine, from where he was trying to decide between grape or orange juice. It was the weekly shop, and Kurt and Blaine were getting increasingly stressed. I tried to keep out of it, mainly by gluing myself to my phone. However, I couldn't help overhearing their conversations.

"We can't _buy_ a chicken, Blaine, because you wouldn't feed it, I wouldn't feed it, the kids sure as hell wouldn't feed it, and then all its chicken brethren would attack and kill us. Have you _seen_ 'Chicken Run'?"

"Well, yes, but I don't see what 'Chicken Run' has to do with-"

"Dad," Mark yelled from the end of the aisle. "I've just seen Joe, is it okay if I go into town with him?" He didn't wait for a response – just took off at a run, sliding along the shop floor like an inline skater.

"Yeah, sure, why not? Okay, Dad, thanks. Oh, no problem, Mark, love you. Love you too, Dad," Blaine muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He turned to Kurt. "I miss when they were small. Alex doesn't really count, because he gets naked all the... Alexander, pull your trousers back up!" He chased after my half-naked brother, shouting apologies at innocent shoppers. Kurt just sighed, before looking at me.

"Lizzie, do you think we need eggs?"

* * *

Wes paused, looking at the two children, who were staring up at him hopefully. He had just finished reading their first entry, and it seemed to be lacking something... Well, quite a lot, if he was honest with himself.

"Um..." Luckily, David had no qualms over hurting the feelings of children, because he piped up,

"You're not really grasping the concept of this. No one _cares_ about Klaine shopping trips, in which they decide whether or not to buy eggs. If Wes and I had included every single Klaine interaction, we wouldn't have written a book. It'd be an internet search engine."

"Well, what else are we supposed to write?" Lizzie said exasperatedly, crossing her arms and spinning around in her computer chair. "They don't _do_ anything. The last time Dad Blaine serenaded Dad Kurt was for their anniversary _years_ ago, where he sang this really old song by Hayley Berry or someone." David flinched.

"If your parents were dead, they'd be rolling in their graves." He turned to Wes. "Well, Wesley, I guess it's official. Kurt and Blaine are old and boring. I bet they just spend their free time looking over _bank statements_ and buying _socks_."

"It's just so tragic," Wes replied, pretending to wipe away a tear. "Guys, I just want to tell you that there was a time, long ago, when your parents were the coolest people we knew. Let this be a warning to us all – getting old kills your coolness." Everyone looked down solemnly.

* * *

It's times like this, Blaine thought happily, that I could consider just locking our children in the basement until they're ready to leave home. He moaned as Kurt bit gently on his lip, but that moan quickly turned to a whine when Kurt pulled his lips away.

"Blaine," he said slowly, staring at the bookshelf and sitting up. "Did you put that book there?" Blaine looked over at the bookshelf and, sure enough, there was a new, thick book tucked in between two photo albums. However, he really couldn't bring himself to care.

"Kurt, I feel quite hurt that I was quite happily making out with you, yet you're so easily distracted by books." He sat up and kissed Kurt's nose, making him giggle. "Let it go." With that, he pushed Kurt down so that he could straddle him, and Kurt moaned happily into Blaine's mouth as he rolled his hips, but pushed Blaine away.

"I can't. I'm curious now. Get off, I want to see what it is." He scrambled up off the couch as Blaine groaned.

"I swear, Kurt, you'll be the death of me. You're wasting valuable Kid Sleeping Time looking at _books_, when we could be making out on this sofa, by _reading_." Kurt shrugged as he took the book out from the bookshelf. He then pulled Blaine up into a sitting position, sat down next to him, and propped the book up on both of their laps.

They sat in silence for a few minutes – Kurt's eyebrows raised further and further up his forehead, while Blaine's jaw dropped to almost tunnel proportions.

"Is this... Blaine, it's not... It's like a bloody novel!" Kurt flicked through the pages, spluttering every so often. "Blaine, they were _everywhere_!"

"Everywhere? Even when we-" Kurt squeaked in horror and started flicking quicker. "Kurt, slow down, I'm trying to read this! I want to – wait, _stalker_?" He grabbed Kurt's hands to stop him turning the pages and read a few paragraphs, before spluttering, "They're making me out to be some psycho creep! What about all the times you stalked me, huh? Where are they in this book?" Blaine pulled the book so that it was resting completely on his lap, and continued to flick. Kurt scoffed.

"Please, name _one_ time I stalked you."

"Well, there was that time you sent Mercedes after me when I was supposed to be buying my wedding tux, because you wanted to make sure I bought the right one..."

"But that wasn't _me_, was it?" Kurt grinned smugly, pushing his hair back with his fingers.

"Fine, what about that time at school when I was in the library, and you just 'happened' to turn up?"

"What, and 'happened' to not notice you, and 'happened' to do my French project on the other side of the library?" He sat back on the couch, his hands behind his head, and looked at Blaine out of the corner of his eyes. "Admit it, I'm not a crazed stalker like you."

"Really? What about when we first met, and you followed me to the Warblers rehearsal?"

"You told me to!"

"Oh. Yeah. Okay, I've got one. Back before we dated, you followed me because you thought I'd stolen your scarf."

"And you had stolen my scarf, so my stalking was completely justified."

"So you admit, it was stalking?"

"...Yes, okay, I admit it." Blaine cheered and threw an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Shut up, you wake up the kids and we'll have even less time together!" Blaine grinned sheepishly, to which Kurt kissed him chastely. "You're so cute sometimes."

"I try," Blaine shrugged. "How long do you think David and Wes were planning this?"

"Years, I think. I mean, some of these entries seem to have been written before we even got _married_. We should call them, say thank you – it's such a lovely thing to do."

"What, make me out to be a stalker? Yes, simply spiffing." Kurt chose to ignore Blaine's comment, instead pulling out his phone.

* * *

There were many things David disliked about his friends. Wes, when he was on a winning streak on COD. Blaine, when he went all moody for various reasons. His work colleague Jenny tended to spit on him while she talked. Generally, however, he quite liked Kurt.

Except when Kurt forgot that most people have regular sleeping hours, and he rang in the early morning.

"Kurt, why?" Was his greeting that night. Or, early morning, as the case was. Mercedes stirred.

"Hi, David, how are you?"

"Kurt, _why_?" David said louder, and Mercedes whined in her sleep.

"David, be _quiet_, I'm trying to sleep. If that's my baby boy on the phone, tell him to bloody go to sleep, like normal people." She turned over, and was asleep in seconds. David sighed and got up, knowing that Kurt would probably want a conversation lasting more than an hour.

"Kurt, why are you calling me _now_? You may be one of my closest friends, but I don't appreciate being called at-"

"Thank you," Kurt blurted down the phone. David's eyebrows raised, making his eyes wide.

"For what?"

"For the book." The book, the book... David looked around the kitchen – where he'd migrated to – for inspiration. His eyes fell on his laptop, and realisation hit him.

"Oh. The Chronicle. You found it, huh?"

"Yeah. Lizzie didn't hide it very well."

"Apparently not." There was an awkward silence as David waited for Kurt to explode at the 'invasion of privacy', but instead he was greeted with a chuckle down the phone.

"It's really cute. And I like the fact that I'm portrayed as the sane one. By the way, Blaine wants me to tell you, and I quote, that 'I don't want to speak to you or Wes ever again!' He's not happy at his representation in the book. I personally find it quite accurate" There was an indignant splutter down the phone that David assumed came from Blaine.

"Well, we really enjoyed writing it. I'll admit-"

"Listen, David, I'm going to have to cut you off," came Blaine's irritated voice down the phone. "I barely spend time with my husband nowadays as it is, and talking to you is cutting into that time. So, so long, farewell, _auf wiedersehn_, _adieu_."

"I can't believe you're quoting 'Sound Of Music' at... Hello? _Bastard_." David hung up the phone irritably, having ended up talking to the dial tone.

* * *

"Kurt?" Blaine whispered. Once again, they were curled up, half asleep, on the couch, which Blaine found pretty ironic. They had a huge, _incredibly_ comfortable bed upstairs, yet they seemed to spend most of their nights asleep in the sitting room, and neither of them were entirely sure why.

"Hmm?" Kurt replied sleepily from behind him – he was the big spoon that night.

"Do you think we really have gotten boring? Because we don't have adventures like we used to, and-" Kurt snorted quietly.

"'Adventures'? What are we, seven? And do you really think I'd still be here if you'd gotten boring?" Blaine nudged him playfully with his elbow, before snuggling closer.

"Well, if it's any consolation, _I_ don't think you're boring."

"Blaine, I've never doubted my coolness for a second. But I appreciate the sentiment." They were quiet for a few minutes. It was these moments that Blaine still felt like a teenager experiencing his first love. Which, in a way, he was.

"Kurt?" Blaine repeated, to which Kurt muttered nonsense in response. "I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

* * *

**Blaine, I really don't see what the point of this is. Isn't it just plagiarising on David and Wes's idea?**

No, Kurt, it isn't. What's wrong with just putting our version of events out there?

**Because they've already done it? Seriously, Blaine, they've covered **_**everything**_**. This would just be dragging it out for the sake of it.**

But Kurt... They've made me sound _weird_. We need to rewrite it!

_**No**_**, Blaine. When you told me you wanted my help with some work, I didn't think it would be to help you write 'Klaine – The Blaine and Kurt Response'. **

Kurt, you'd help me if you loved me...

**And this is me helping. **_**Give up**_**. They've written it far better than we could ever have done. **

But I really want to write _something_ to show how much I love you.

**This is why we should sleep at night. You become increasingly corny with tiredness. Blaine, I **_**know**_** you love me. You serenade me God knows how many times a week, even now. And even though there aren't people watching you serenade me nowadays, it's still romantic, and cheesy, and overall Blaine, and... Are you **_**crying**_**?**

What? No, of course not.

**You really need to sleep more.**

Mr Hummel-Anderson, is that your euphemism for getting me into bed?

**No, actually. You genuinely need to sleep more. **

Oh. So, what do I do with this Word document then, if you're refusing to help me write it?

**Delete it. Come on, Blaine, it's three in the morning, we should be **_**sleeping**_**. **

Yeah, I'll be right up... Okay, he's gone. Well, readers, I'd like to let you know that I'm not a crazy stalker, I don't have hyperactivity issues, and most of what you read here was a _lie_. Except the part about how much I love Kurt. That was true. And the proposal. That was also true, and devised purely by me. And another thing –

**Blaine, who the hell are you talking to? That's it, you've left me no choice. I'm literally going to carry you away from the computer.**

* * *

"Wes?" David said at their weekly coffee meet-up. Wes looked up from his coffee. "I feel lost."

"Well, David, we're currently in our regular coffee shop-"

"No, Wes. I mean, knowing that there's nothing else to write about Klaine, I feel like my life's not got a purpose. Like I've told my story, you know?" Wes stared at David incredulously.

"That's ridiculous. There'll always be stories to tell about them. They're like Romeo and Juliet, just without the death. They're like Angel and Collins – again, without the death. They're like..." Wes paused, taking a sip of coffee.

"Edward and Bella, just without the vampirism. Although the creepy stalking is accurate." Wes spat the coffee at an unfortunate woman sitting on the table opposite. Once he had apologised profusely, ran to get napkins to clean her up, and apologised some more he sat down and raised his eyebrows.

"I can't believe you just compared 'Klaine' to... I don't know what they're called, 'Bedward'? You know what, I don't want to know, and I want to forget this conversation forever."

"But..."

"No buts. Don't talk anymore, unless you want to leave yourself unredeemable in my eyes."

* * *

**Author's Note: Phew. It's done. My baby's done. **

**Again, apologies for the delay. School is just my top priority at the moment – as such, there won't be any multi-chapter fics until after my exams (so, late June). There'll probably be a few one shots, so if you're suffering from desperate withdrawal from my writing (PAHAHAHAHA) feel free to check back on my page every so often.**

**Right, the thankings... I can't name you all by name, unfortunately, but to anybody and everybody who reviewed, alerted, favourited, etc. etc... Thank you. You have no idea how much every single notification made my day – I've been happy for months now, and people are even commenting on how happy I seem lately. And that's all because of this, so... Thanks.**

**(Is it strange that I feel compelled to turn this into an Oscar win speech? Yes? Okay.)**

**Finally, one quick note... Can somebody make me an idiot's guide to Tumblr? Because I really want to get into it, but my dashboard is empty and boring. And, quite frankly, crap. And then I see all these pretty Tumblrs, and then look at mine... Meh. **

**So, I bid you adieu, I will be back during my epically long summer (Some of June, all of July, all of August and most of September – woo!) and I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!**


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